Statue of a Son
by gothraven89
Summary: A bitter argument with his father leads Sam to drastically change everything that makes him... him. Instead, he becomes a stranger,cold and distant, even scary as hell. ANGSTY emotionally hurt Sam and very, very, very guilty Dean and John. PLEASE REVIEW
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural and I am not making any profits off of this story. It all belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke so, please don't sue and please don't be offended by the language or situations the characters find themselves in.

Statue of a Son

" I don't wanna go on the hunt Dad, I have something important that I have to be at tomorrow!!!" Yelled thirteen year old Sam Winchester as he glared defiantly at his father John who was standing across from him.

" Damn it Sam, this is not up for discussion, there is a black dog out there in the woods that needs to be taken care of before it kills anymore people, that is way more important than some school play." Countered John, frustrated as Hell to once again find himself in a screaming match with his youngest boy in the living room of the shabby, run down house they were staying in.

" It's the Winter Show and I have one of the big roles in it!!!" Cried Sam, wanting his father to relent and let him go to the show.

His father and his brother could take care of this black dog just fine, they didn't need him.

From where he sat on the couch, Dean Winchester heaved a deep sigh of annoyance and woe at once again because any second now he was gonna be dragged into this newest argument between the two members of his family and quiet frankly, he just didn't have it in him to play mediator and keep the peace between the two block-heads today.

_" Any seco__nd now, Sam gonna start harping about his precious need for normal and then that's just gonna piss off Dad some more."_ Thought Dean with a small grumble.

Sure enough...

" Why can't we do something normal for just one night?" Asked Sam angrily as he send daggers his father's way.

" For Pete's sake, Samuel Winchester, why are you so obsessed with normal when the Hunt is far more important, people's lives are at stake. What we do is far more important than something as meaningless as a school play!" Shouted John as he glared back at his youngest boy.

Sam bit back the wave of hurt that washed over him at his father's harsh words and battled to keep his face straight.

" But my play is imp-" Sam began, but John was hearing none of it.

" Why can't you be more like your brother? Dean understands that the hunt is a hell of a lot more important than prancing around on a stage and being an public embarrassment!" Yelled John.

Being compared to his older sibling made Sam's last nerve go haywire as his anger boiled over.

" WELL I CAN'T BE DEAN BECAUSE I'M SAM DAD, SAM NOT DEAN!!!!" Screamed Sam.

Sam watched as his father stood with steam all but shooting out of both his ears while Dean looked exasperated to the max as he rolled his eyes and stood up from his seat to dutifully step in to defuse the fiery situation.

The look on Dean's face said it all for Sam that, his big brother had sided with his father and that he too thought that Sam's play just wasn't important by anyone's standard.

" YEAH WELL, IT'D BE A HELL OF A LOT BETTER IF YOU WERE MORE LIKE DEAN, AT LEAST THEN YOU WOULDN'T BE SUCH A WHINY LITTLE BRAT WHO SCREWS UP LEFT AND RIGHT!!!" Roared John, his famous temper blinding him to the serious amount of damage his words would surely cause his youngest child.

At these words, Sam felt his thirteen year old heart come to a screeching halt in his chest before he felt it splinter at his father's harsh words.

His father thought he was nothing more than a screw up, he'd just screamed it out for the whole world to hear.

With his eyes burning and his throat closing up on him, Sam battled to still look pissed off and stubborn when all he felt now was pain radiating from the center of his chest.

" Oh whatever, forget I said anything." He mumbled with as much heat as he could muster before he promptly turned his back on his family and all but fled upstairs to the room he and Dean shared, leaving his still fuming father and still annoyed brother in his wake.

He slammed the door shut and then made his way over to his bed where he promptly collapsed heavily onto it.

Sam sat with his big, hazel green eyes swimming in fresh tears as his father's angry words and his brother's annoyed and slightly resentful face assailing his mind without mercy.

Inside his heart, already cracked and aching from the latest wounds inflicted by his father and his brother, Sam felt his anger and his hurt swirl around in a destructive vortex.

Then, a single hot drop of salt escaped his eyes and with a noise of disgust at his own weakness, Sam viscously wiped the track of wetness from his cheek and used ever ounce of his will to keep his body from giving in to it's basic urge to weep and give in to the grief he was feeling.

_" No, I won't cry, if they see me cry they'll just say that I'm a baby and that I need to suck it up. No, I won't cry ever again."_ Thought Sam angrily.

So, he sat there and used every ounce of his will to snub out as much of his heart-break as possible and bury it as deep inside as he could.

Winchester's don't cry.

It was in that moment Sam Winchester decided to stop being himself, to stop being the kid he was and become a sufficient hunter like his brother was.

After all, the only thing his father wanted a carbon copy of his _perfect_ first born son. John Winchester didn't want and certainly didn't need as he put it ' a whiny little brat who screws of left and right.' for a son now did he?

It was in that moment that Sam decided to give up everything that made him feel happy and just focus on the hunt and what supernatural being needed to be killed or sent packing straight to hell.

He'd stop arguing with his father, he take orders without question and simply be there, that's all.

Sam's thirteen year old mind reasoned that, this would make John Winchester happy, and it would make Dean happy because there wouldn't be any more battled to be fought or broken up.

With a small sigh, Sam staved off his tears and forced his heart to repair itself as best as it could.

But, Sam did lament that he wouldn't be able to go and participate in the Winter Show, and unlike what John and Dean were both led to believe, he didn't just have a big role in that play, he was supposed to have been one of the leads.

He'd wanted it to be a surprise for when his family would be there and they'd see that he was actually good enough to be one of the main stars of the entire stage production.

All he'd wanted was to prove some of the mean kids at school who'd decided to hound him wrong by showing them that his family did care about him, that they would be there for him.

Well, so much for that idea.

Instead of even giving him a chance, his father had simply brushed off what was important to him as some meaningless waste of time.

No, it had become very clear to Sam that, he shouldn't even bother to try and seek any kind of approval or praise from his dad or even his brother anymore in regards to any of the 'normal' things he loved to do cause all it would get him was a pissed off father, an annoyed older brother, and another deep crack to his already battered heart.

The two of them had made it clear that they just weren't interested in any of the things that made him happy, like school plays and soccer games.

It had been made pretty clear that whatever he did that made him feel good and proud of himself just wasn't worth the time the two people he loved with all his heart.

No, thirteen year old Sam Winchester vowed to never cry again and just be the good, obedient little soldier his father wanted.

Cause being himself just wouldn't cut it in the Winchester family.

_The next night..._

The woods were black and ominous as they loomed on either side of the black top road.

The air was cold and still, not a sound penetrated it.

The grip of Winter was unyeilding and harsh, with a fresh coating of frost over everything.

Then, the deep rumble of a car engine shattered this deathly silence like glass.

A pair of bright beaming headlights illuminated the soft darkness as a sleek black 1967 Chevy Impala came around the corner and thundered onward.

Behind the wheel was John Winchester, looking grim and determined as he drove.

The oldest Winchester spared a glance to his right and eyed his oldest son.

Dean sat with his entire being all but humming with excited energy. John Winchester could tell that the boy was eager to kick some supernatural black dog butt back to Hell.

Then, John's gaze shifted to the rear view mirror, in it's reflective surface, he eyed his youngest son Sam, where he sat in the back seat.

Unlike Dean, Sam was a picture of dejection and muted anger.

He hadn't spoken a single word to his father nor his brother since the huge argument that had happened the night before.

John felt a small pang of regret in his heart as he remembered the words he'd screamed at his son and as he looked back upon his action, he knew that he was wrong to say such things to his youngest.

But, in true Winchester fashion, John shrugged off the feeling as they drew nearer to where their intended quarry was believed to be hungry and waiting.

From where he sat in the back seat, Sam felt empty and desolate save for the dull ache of his heart every now and then.

He couldn't get the disappointed looks of his teacher and his fellow classmates out of his mind when he'd told them that he wouldn't be able to be in the play tonight.

He sat there stewing but tightly keeping his mouth shut from saying any of the words he wanted to speak so badly and instead, he felt himself grow cold and distant.

He couldn't bother himself with something so meaningless as his father had put it.

After all, killing something evil was more pressing.

As he sat there, Sam felt a thick darkness settle over him.

He'd show his dad that he wasn't some whiny little brat who always screwed up.

He'd show Dean that he was just as good if not better.

He'd show them both what kind of hunter he was.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural and I am not making any profits off of this story. It all belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke so, please don't sue and please don't be offended by the language or situations the characters find themselves in.

Chapter 2

Dean Winchester bit back the urge to shudder as the cold winter air assaulted his face without mercy as he stood with a loaded shotgun in his gloved hands.

Even with his heavy winter jacket, Dean felt the cold seep into him and that did not make him a very happy camper.

" Geez, couldn't this mangy black mutt pick some place warmer?" Asked Dean through slightly chattering teeth.

He was expecting a sassy quip or at the very least, an annoyed eye roll from Sam who stood beside him with a silver revolver in his hand but, all Dean received was icy silence that could have very well rivaled the near arctic weather.

Sam didn't even spare him a glance, his face remained a blank mask as he stared ahead, absolutely refusing to give Dean the time of day.

Dean shrugged away the snub, if Sammy wanted to be all bitchy and silent and totally miss out on the awesomeness that was a conversation with his fabulous big brother well then, it was his loss.

The two boys waited in silence until their father joined them and promptly began giving out orders.

" Alright boys listen up, the both of you are gonna head left on that path while I head right and we are gonna circle inward. That Black dog's holed up in a clearing in there somewhere. We are gonna surround it." Said John, his breath rising in smoky plumes from his lips and disintegrating into the frosty air as he pointed out the path he wanted his sons to head.

" Yes sir." Said Dean automatically, signaling that the order was received.

Sam remained muted and merely nodded without looking at his father.

" Did you hear me Sam?" Asked John, a warning in his tone.

" Yes sir." Mumbled Sam, still not bringing his eyes to look at his father.

John felt annoyance at his youngest son's petulance but shrugged it off.

" Good, now move it the both of you." Ordered John sharply before he turned and headed off down the opposite path.

Dean and Sam watched their father's retreating form for a few seconds before they headed off down the ordered path, side by side.

After about a good ten minutes of walking with their weapons held close, Dean just couldn't take the silence any longer.

" C'mon Sammy, don't be such a bitch about the fact that you couldn't go and prance around on stage tonight."

For the better part of forever, there was only cold silence and then Sam spoke his first complete sentence in a whole day.

" Screw you Dean, and it's Sam." Grumbled Sam quietly as he gave Dean a glare, feeling the dull ache in his fragile heart return as Dean unwittingly pulled at the flimsy scabs Sam had desperately placed over the bleeding wound that was still fresh over it.

Dean was instantly incensed by his baby brother's glare and rotten attitude and like his father the night before, he let his temper cloud his use of words.

" Well fine then, be all bitchy, but Dad is right, this hunt is way more important, people's lives are way more important than some stupid school play that doesn't mean jack, You're just being a selfish little freak!" Growled Dean before he stomped off down the path leaving Sam in his wake.

Dean didn't see how Sam came to a dead halt and stared at his retreating back with wide, hurt filled eyes. He didn't see the way his baby brother's jaw trembled or how his head bowed so low to hide how his eyes were welling with bitter tears.

As he stood there, Sam felt his entire world crumble around him.

It was one thing for his father to say something like that but this had been Dean, Dean his big brother, the guy who'd said that he'd always be on his side.

_Dean_ thought he was a selfish little freak.

Dean _thought_ that about _him. _

A new crack jaggedly carved itself into Sam's heart, a raw pain erupted and spread through his entire being from this devastating blow.

Sam wanted nothing more than to drop his gun, run back to the car, and collapse into despair.

But then he remembered the vow he had made to himself the night before.

To never cry again.

With a deep breath, Sam clenched his jaw hard enough to hurt and bit his lip to keep his face straight.

Fighting tooth and nail, Sam once again battled back the tears that were incinerating his eye balls.

With a small cough, Sam felt the anguish and heartache within him fade away, being replace by a raw, unbridled rage.

With his teeth grinding together in absolute fury, Sam jogged lightly to catch up with his brother.

From where he walked, Dean found himself feeling guilty beyond words for what he's just said to his baby brother.

He'd been so annoyed and fed up with the way his brother and his father were at each other's throats that he'd let his frustration and anger cloud his better judgment.

He knew that his Sammy wasn't selfish and he wasn't a freak either.

Now Dean was feeling like biggest heel on the face of the planet.

He'd have to apologize and make it up to the kid after this hunt was over.

As stealthily as he could, Dean glanced at Sam and found himself feeling worse as he eyed the way Sam look angry and miserable at the same time, it was written all over his face.

And he was responsible for putting that look on Sam's face.

_" I'm sorry Sammy."_ Thought Dean as the two of them keep moving deeper and deeper into the woods, getting closer and closer to the Black Dog they were hunting.

Then, they both spotted the clearing up ahead and immediately became alert to the dangerous situation they were walking into.

The two brothers snuck up to the mouth of the clearing, being careful to be as quiet as possible as they crouched behind a tree and some bushes.

The both of them instantly noticed the hole in the dirt.

The Black Dog's den.

Dean looked over at the other side of the clearing and spotted his father before the oldest Winchester was ducking away into a hiding place of his own.

Now, the three of them would have to wait and see if their quarry would make an appearance.

With each passing minute, Sam felt the molten hot rage inside of him bubble and boil to the point where his hands were beginning to tremble.

Dean eyed this and wrote it off as simply Sam being cold, it was like being inside a freezer after all.

They waited for what seemed hours in the cold with only the sounds of the night and the cold, biting wind.

Then, a loud growling filled the air and all three humans tensed and held their breathes as they waited.

Three pairs of eyes stayed focused solely on the hole in the ground, where the growl had emminated from.

The three Winchesters watched as something began moving inside the hole and then a large and long, snarling muzzle peeked out of the darkness.

A surge of adrenaline coursed through Sam's body, adding more fuel to an already volcanic level of rage.

All other emotions were ground into dust and scattered to the winds, all Sam wanted to do was to riddle this sorry ass dog full of as many bullets from his gun as he could.

He'd show his father and his brother how efficient at wasting evil things he was.

The black dog emerged from the hole, growling low with it's white, jagged teeth bared and swimming in filmy drool. The beast was shaggy and boney, looking emmaciated despite the fact that it had chomped down on several unfortunate humans during the last few weeks.

The three hunters waited for the dog to take a few steps away from the hole, also hoping that the thing wouldn't catch their sents.

They watched the dog slowly step out and sniff about, all the while looking hungry and pissed.

Then, a sudden gust of wind blew through the area, carrying with it the sent of human straight to the nose of the hungry Black dog.

The beast roared and turned sunken red eyes in the direction of where the boys were crouched.

" SHOOT IT NOW!!!" Screamed John as he shot out of his hiding place with his shotgun ready, he let off a shot but the beast was wicked fast, it dodged the attack at lightening fast speed before with another roar, it lunged at the oldest Winchester.

" DAD LOOK OUT!!!" Screamed Dean, running out of his hiding spot with Sam right behind him as he watched the Black dog jump at his father, ready to sink his claws into the oldest Winchester and make dinner out of him.

John barely got out of the way in time as the Dog came crashing down on where he'd been standing.

Dean was the next to fire off a shot but this too was dodged by the Dog as with a loud howl, it circled its would be hunters.

They watched the dog as it circled and debated on which human it would go after first.

Then the thing was moving and lightening fast speed, hurtling straight at Dean.

Dean raised his gun, ready to shoot when the thing veered to the side at the last second, plowing straight into John and latching onto his jacket.

" GAAAAAAAHHHH!!!" John's scream echoed through the air as he was viscously thrown into the air.

" DAD NO!!!" Screamed Dean as he watched in horror as his father went sailing through the air.

John Winchester flew through the air for a good few seconds before he smashed into a tree and fell to the ground in an unconscious heap.

Then the thing turned with a loud roar, this time barreling at Dean.

The older Winchester boy fired his shotgun again, feeling triumph when his shot hit the Dog square in the shoulder.

But the joy was quickly killed because the shot did nothing to stop the enrage animal as he plowed straight into Dean, sending another Winchester sailing through the air with a powerful head-butt.

" AHHH!!!" Screamed Dean as he flew through the air, gravity took hold and sent him crashing into the ground head first.

The second before he landed and was knocked unconscious like his father before him, Dean had one single through his head.

_" SAMMY, OH GOD SAMMY RUN!!!!"_


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural and I am not making any profits off of this story. It all belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke so, please don't sue and please don't be offended by the language or situations the characters find themselves in.

Chapter 3

Pain, dull and throbbing.

It was cold, so cold through every inch of him.

Those were the first things that registered in Dean Winchester's foggy and dazed mind as consciousness slowly began to return to him.

Hazel-green eyes slowly fluttered open and blinked slowly.

The murkiness slowly faded from his vision, clearing it.

For what seemed an eternity, Dean stared up at the sky, clear with no clouds and the millions of stars twinkling brightly within the sky's endless black expanse.

With a loud groan, the young man forced himself up onto an elbow while he reached up to gingerly touch the sore, aching spot on the side of his head.

Dean hissed at the pain but was pleased that it was just a large bump and not a bloody mess.

" What happened?" Asked Dean to himself as his befuddled mind tried to process his surrounding but at the moment, the gears in his head were still slightly out of sync with each other.

He slowly processed that he was in a clearing surrounded by dark woods, he was on the ground and he must have been knocked out.

Then, something in his brain clicked and he remembered things in rapid succession.

They were hunting a nasty Black Dog.

The thing had been wicked fast and cunning.

It'd faked them out by pretending to go after him but then it had veered and sunk it's teeth into his dad.

It'd sent John flying into a tree, he'd smashed into it and fell to the ground in a heap.

Then the thing had come at him and he gotten a shot off, hitting it in the shoulder.

But that hadn't done any good because the thing had still plowed into him and sent him flying as well, he crashed into the ground and passed out.

... He'd left his baby brother alone and defenseless against the monster that had already knocked him and his dad, the more experienced hunters of the family, out like they'd been nothing.

Cold terror began to seep into Dean's heart.

**Sammy. **

**Where was Sammy?**

The older Winchester brother was about to yell out for the youngest when a new noise stopped him.

" Oooooohhhhh..." A low, pain filled groan that sounded older and deeper instantly brought Dean to full alert, the young man turned his head in the direction of where the sound originated from behind him and felt a jolt go through him as his eyes fell on the form of his father laying on his back beside him.

" Dad!" Exclaimed Dean, immediately regretting it as his head twinged with agony.

With a small grunt, Dean shuffled closer to his father to look him over.

He was stunned to see that there was cloth wrapped around tightly around his father's head and leg as make-shift bandages.

Both were moderately saturated with the deep crimson of blood.

He immediately deducted that the patchwork job was Sammy's doing but, when he looked around, Dean felt his terror grow as he realized that he and his father were the only one here in the clearing.

There was no sign of the vicious Black Dog and even more alarming, there was no sign of a shaggy haired thirteen year old boy anywhere.

A scared Dean loomed over his father and began to lightly shake him as he spoke urgently.

" Dad! Dad can you hear me?"

" Y-Yeah, yeah Dean I hear you. AHH GOD!!!" Cried John, his face contorting as the pain of his injuries crashed down on his with the force of a tsunami.

John brought a hand to his head, his fingers grazing over the the cloth wrapped tightly around his head, and the wound that graced his temple.

There was dried and still wet blood caking the side of his face and it made his stomach roll just a little.

Confusion flooded through John before the memories of the events before his impromptu flight into a trees assailed his mind.

With a small gasp, John sat up, well he tried to anyway.

" Woah, easy Dad." Said Dean as he helped his father sit up all the way.

John felt the tempo of his heart sky-rocket as realization dawned on him.

There was only one son by his side, only Dean.

Where was his other child, where was his Sam.

" DEAN WHERE'S YOUR BROTHER, WHERE'S SAMMY?!!!" Screamed John frantically, terror beginning to paint every line of his face.

" Dad, after you got knocked out, that fucking Black Dog came at me and Sam, I got a shot off... I remember I hit it in the shoulder. But it didn't stop, i-it plowed into me... I-I got knocked out too. I-I don't know what happened after that... Sammy had to have made a run for it... he had to have. There's no way he could've taken on that thing..." Dean trailed off as he stared fearfully at his father.

Then, the two oldest Winchesters finally took in their surroundings with clear heads.

The clearing was eerily silent, not even the wind was blowing.

One of the shotguns the Winchesters had brought with them lay discarded near the center of the tree-less ground.

They were the only ones there.

No Black Dog.

And worse, no Sammy.

Then, two heart froze as Dean and John's eyes fell on pool of dark, shiny liquid near the mouth of a trail that led deeper into the woods.

" C'mon Dad, we gotta find Sammy." Said Dean urgently.

John simply nodded and with Dean's help, he climbed to his feet. He leaned on Dean for a few second before he let go, seeing if he could stand on his own.

John stared down at his injured leg and felt another jolt go through him as he eyed the cloth that was wrapped around his wounds in a makeshift bandage.

He recognized it as one of the sleeves from the shirt Sam had been wearing underneath his heavy winter coat.

What had happened?

When had Sam had the time to patch him up?

Clenching his jaw at the pain, John nodded to Dean and the two of them started making there way over to the shiny puddle at the start of the trail.

The the two hunter's drew nearer, they saw that there were several splashes of the dark liquid all over the ground and they continued down the path.

" It must be the Black Dog's blood." Said Dean, he had shot the fucker after all.

" Then we gotta follow the trail fast." Said John.

Dean trotted away from his father for a moment and grabbed up the discarded shotgun, the other one was no where to be found so he assumed that Sam had taken it with him.

Together, the two of them disappeared down the dark, shadowed path, praying with all that they had that their youngest one was still alive.

They stumbled and limped over the long since faded foot prints of their youngest deeper into the darkness.

_Half an hour earlier on this night that had fast gone to Hell... _

" DEAN NOOOO!!!" Screamed Sam as he watched his brother fly through the air and crash to the ground in an unconscious heap.

Without thinking, Sam raised his gun and fired at the Black Dog.

The filthy beast let out a loud howl as a bullet lodged in it's neck.

It turned to glare at Sam with it's hell-bright eyes and gave a loud, feral snarl.

But, instead of attacking the one who'd caused it new pain, the animal tuned and dove down the path that led deeper into the woods.

But, the thirteen year old did not feel relief at this.

No, his fear spiked because he knew full well that, that thing would be back, and it would be pissed as hell.

But, Sam shook himself out of his fear as he remembered the promises he had made to himself the night before.

Instantly, Sam felt his rage come back full swing.

That Dog may have been angry but it was nothing compared to the fury of Sam Winchester.

That thing was gonna pay for even daring to touch his family.

John and Dean may have hurt him in the deepest of ways but they were still everything to him.

That thing was dead, he was gonna tear it to shreds with his own bare hands.

But at the moment, there was a far more pressing matter.

With a small growl of his own, Sam dropped his gun and ran to his unconscious older brother's side.

He knelt beside Dean and carefully turned his big brother over.

He was glad beyond words to see that Dean wasn't bleeding and his only injury was the blow to his head.

Sam prayed that Dean didn't have a concussion as he twisted his hands into the material of his big brother's winter coat and proceeded to drag the dead weight as fast as he could over the cold hard dirt.

Sam yanked an unconscious Dean over to an equally unconscious John and nearly collapsed from the exertion when he reached where his father lay.

But, Sam didn't indulge his need to rest as he quickly turned to his more grievously injured father and checked out John's injuries.

" Oh Fuck." Whispered Sam, feeling free to use all the colorful language as he wished seeing as to how those who would reprimand him were both out for the time being.

His dad had a gash on near his temple that was oozing red, and his right jeans leg was fast changing from blue to red as well.

Sam hastily shrugged off his winter coat and reached for the left sleeve of his winter shirt.

He gripped the fabric tightly and pulled.

The sound of tearing echoed loudly through Sam's ears as he ripped his sleeve off.

He leaned over and carefully took his father's blood leg into his lap as he quickly and efficiently wrapped the cloth as tightly as he could over the bite wounds.

He tied the two ends off, effectively stifling most of the blood flow.

Then Sam turned his attention to the head wound.

Once again, he reached for his remaining sleeve and wrenched it off.

In the same practiced manner, Sam wrapped his father's head, staunching the three inch gash that graced John's head.

He let out shivering breaths as the cold immediately attacked the now exposed skin of his arms, but he didn't let that deter him as he finished tying off the second make shift bandage.

Despite himself, Sam let one tiny little sob escape him before he killed the urge to breakdown all together.

After all, he'd promised himself to never be a whiny little brat or a selfish freak ever again.

The rage returned and burned away the fear, leaving only the primal urge to kill.

Sam took a deep, steadying breath before he turned to an unconscious Dean, he reached into the inner pocket of his brother's jacket and pulled out the large hunting knife he always carried with him on hunts.

With a lingering look at his father and his big brother, both still trapped in unconsciousness, Sam stood up and wiped his blood stained hands against his pants before he pulled his heavy winter coat back on, tucking the knife into one of his own pockets.

Sam turned away and walked over to where John's forgotten shot gun lay, he picked it up and slung the leather strap that was attached to it over his shoulder.

Then, he headed into the clearing and picked up his hand gun, tucking it into the waist band of his jeans at the base of his back.

He walked till he stood at the mouth of the path the Black Dog had bolted down.

He eyed the dark stains that littered the ground with a pleased feeling.

_" Thank's Dean."_ Thought Sam as he remembered that Dean had been the first to make the beast bleed.

Then, Sam took one last look at his father and big brother where they lay.

He was gonna show them both what kind of hunter he was, he was gonna show them how good he was at killing anything and everything supernatural he was.

He'd show his dad that he wasn't some useless whiny little brat.

He'd show his big brother that he wasn't some bitchy, selfish freak.

But despite all the anger within him, Sam felt his cracked and dented heart bleed and twinge longingly.

The thirteen year old didn't just want to prove his worth to a family whom he believed didn't see any real usefulness in him. No, he had to protect them both because they were at their most vulnerable, and he was their only line of defense.

Though he felt that he didn't matter to the two men lay side by side in the dirt, totally oblivious to the potentially deadly battle he was about to fight, they were all the truly mattered to him.

_" If I do die out here tonight... Even after everything you both said to me, I love you guys, I'll always loved you no matter what_." Thought Sam.

Then, all thoughts of love and longing evaporated like a snowball tossed inside an oven burning at full blast.

There was still a Black Dog out there in the woods.

That Black Dog was gonna regret ever daring hurt Sam Winchester's family.

That Black Dog was kibble meat.

With a small growl of his own, Sam trotted off down the dark path that led deeper and deeper into the dark woods.

And as explained earlier, half an hour later his bruised and mangled father and older brother followed after his long cold foot falls.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural and I am not making any profits off of this story. It all belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke so, please don't sue and please don't be offended by the language or situations the characters find themselves in.

personal not: Listen to the **300 official movie soundtrack, track number 04: Returns a King** at the end of this chapter for some added effect.

Chapter 4

Snow, soft and white fell from the gray and blue clouds that had materialized out of no where and hid the full moon behind their wispy forms.

A soft wind ruffled the winter blackened branches of the trees.

A lone figure approached the rocky cliff face that loomed ominously over the dark woods.

Sam Winchester walked slowly and carefully to wards the dark gray and black rock face.

He'd been walking deeper and deeper into the woods, following the blood trail left behind by the Black Dog, his prey, his quarry, his enemy.

It'd seemed like hours since he'd first come after the beast.

As he neared the shadow of the cliff, Sam reached behind himself, his hand snaking under his winter coat as he pulled out the revolver he'd stuck there securely and held the gun with both hands.

He would save the single round left in his father's shotgun as a last resort in case the ammo in his gun ran out.

As he eyed the dark red liquid that stained the ground with directionality, he knew that he was getting close, he could _feel_ it.

As he walked with the shadow of the cliff coming over him like a shallow blanket, Sam felt a pang go through him despite being in full hunter mode.

_" I hope Dean and Dad are alright."_ Thought Sam.

To his chagrin, Sam felt his already threadbare heart lurch painfully within his chest.

He felt his eyes well and was about to let himself give in to the tears, momentarily forgetting his vow when the echoes of his father and brother's voices filled his ears.

_" YEAH WELL, IT'D BE A HELL OF A LOT BETTER IF YOU WERE MORE LIKE DEAN, AT LEAST THEN YOU WOULDN'T BE SUCH A WHINY LITTLE BRAT WHO SCREWS UP LEFT AND RIGHT!!!"_

_" Well fine then, be all bitchy, but Dad is right, this hunt is way more important, people's lives are way more important than some stupid school play that doesn't mean jack, You're just being a selfish little freak!"_

John and Dean's words hammered loudly and mercilessly through his head.

_WHINY LITTLE BRAT... selfish little freak... WHINY LITTLE BRAT... selfish little freak... WHINY LITTLE BRAT... selfish little freak... WHINY LITTLE BRAT... selfish little freak..._

The cold despair fled from Sam's soul at these echoes through his head, the thirteen year old child burned away into ashes, the Hunter, the blood thirsty Predator, taking over completely, gaining full control.

Sam eyed a small part of the rock face that jutted outward and carefully made his way over to it, ever vigilant, alert to any sound, any shift, any other sign besides the fresh blood on the ground that informed him of whether the thing he hunting was near.

_Meanwhile, back down the path Sam had just walked down..._

Dean Winchester was feeling a massive and very unpleasant combination of fear and frustration.

He wanted nothing more than to run down the dirt path as fast as his legs could take him but, he head was killing him and wouldn't allow that desired action.

And besides that, there was no way his father would be able to run along side him with that messed up leg of his.

The oldest Winchester was grunting softly with each heavily limping step he forced his body to take.

The two of them were both silently cursing that Black Dog straight to the hottest pit of Hell itself, and they were cursing their own ignorance for letting that thing get the drop on them both.

And because they had both had their ass's handed to them and were sent flying for good measure, their youngest and most inexperienced one was out here somewhere in these God Forsaken woods.

As he walked, Dean felt terror cold and coursing through every single vein of his body.

He'd let himself get knocked out.

He'd left his baby brother alone with that thing.

There was no way Sam could take on that Black Dog.

No way.

Sam could be out there somewhere scared and hurt, dying...

Or maybe that thing already made an evening meal out of his Sammy, maybe he was already...

Dean grumbled lightly and shook his head furiously.

No, that could not have happened, not to Sammy, not to his baby brother.

He still had to apologize to the kid for calling him a selfish little freak.

He hadn't meant those words.

It was just that the latest argument between his father and his brother had left him wanting to tear every single strand of his hair out of his scalp. He'd been tired and cold and just wanted to get to hunting that evil K-9 bitch down.

Sammy wasn't selfish, not at all.

That kid didn't have a single particle of selfishness in him.

No, Sam was just Sam, his annoying, stubborn, head strong, absolutely wonderful, one of a kind kid brother.

Now, all Dean wanted was to find him, alive, maybe terrified shitless. but above all else, alive.

That was all.

With a feeling of guiltiness nagging at his heart, Dean stumbled on ward down the path with the shotgun he'd picked up before he and his dad had gone down the trail gripped tightly in his hands.

From where he limped after his oldest son, John Winchester was fighting with every ounce of his will against the cold, the pain of his injuries, and his body's urge to have a full blown, hyperventilation included panic attack.

His youngest son was out there in these woods somewhere.

His baby was out there somewhere in these pitch black woods with a monstrous creature that was already thirsty for it's next meal and now surely wanting vengeance for the injuries that had been caused to it.

John felt his heart ache and bleed as he remembered the awful words he'd screamed at his son the night before.

Now as he mulled over the memories, he could not believe he had said such things to his youngest child.

Sammy wasn't a whiny little brat who screwed up all the time. No, if anything the boy was only solid in his stubbornness... like his old man.

And as far as screwing up, it was only now and then because he was still learning the ropes of the "family business" as it were.

John felt guilt bubble up from within the pit of his stomach. It was now that John wished that he himself had not been so stubborn and unyielding.

Now, the father wished that he had indulged his youngest son instead of snubbing him.

If he had given Sam the time of day, the three of them would have been enjoying a Winter stage production at a school with Sammy at risk of only getting stage fright.

Instead, they were here in this cold, desolate place on a night that had gone straight to Hell.

And now, his youngest son may have been ripped to shreds by a vicious Black Dog...

**NO!!!!**

John banished all thoughts that his youngest child had been killed and that all they would find at the end of this long path was blood and a few mangled body parts .

No, his son was alive.

He had to be.

With a steadying breath, John soldiered on ward after his oldest son, ignoring the pain of his bitten leg as they followed the trail of murky red.

His only concern was finding his youngest son.

The Black Dog didn't matter as much.

_Back to the looming rock face..._

Sam slowly and carefully made his way over to the space of the looming rock face that seemed to have been carved out of it.

The youngest Winchester crouched down low under the jutting rock, a crude roof that shielded him from most of the fluttering snow falling from the sky.

He crouched and with a keen eye heightened by adrenaline and the most basic of human instincts for survival, he took in his surroundings.

Everything was quiet.

Too quiet.

As his eyes fell on the blood trail that had guided him to this place, Sam felt his heart stop dead in his chest, though only for a moment as he eyed how the the trail led straight into a clump of frost covered evergreen bushes perfectly across from his position, just feet away.

No sooner had this realization registered within in his mind, a low, menacing growl filled the air.

" There you are." Whispered Sam, tightening his hold around his hand gun as he watched and waited for his adversary reveal himself once again.

The bushes of evergreen rustled and snapped. The first thing Sam saw of the Black Dog were it's eyes.

Two glowing blood red orbs, rubies from the deepest pit of Hell itself glared back at him murderously, filled with hate and hunger, attached to an inky, shapeless mass.

Then the sunken face of the Black Dog emerged from the darkness.

The Dog snarled grotesquely, once again revealing jagged, slobber covered teeth.

The thing slowly moved out of the shadows, growling low and angry, shaking off the flecks of snow that clung to it's fur.

Shaggy and thin, the animal took a few slow, deliberate steps further out of it's hiding place.

The Dog's jet black fur was matted and slick with deep crimson at the shoulder, and down the side of it's neck.

Drops of the thick liquid slashed softly onto the lightly frost covered ground.

The wounds the Winchester brothers had inflicted.

A wounded beast.

A enraged beast.

Sam willed his body into motion as the evil creature before him stepped fulling out of the shadows it had hidden in, the dim, clouded over light of the Moon illuminating it's demonic form.

Feeling weighed down by the heavy coat he was wearing, Sam slowly shrugged it off and slung his father's shotgun onto his other shoulder, his eyes never leaving the fiery ones of the animal that wanted him dead.

He pulled Dean's large hunting knife out of one of the inside pockets and quickly stuffed it into the waist band of his jeans.

He had a feeling it would be useful later.

The youngest Winchester and his quarry began to circle each other, slowly and with exaggerated care.

Deep down, Sam knew that this was a test, an initiation

His initiation.

He would either pass this test and live, or fail and experience a painful, brutal death.

The Dog circled the human boy before it, claws of black iron itching to tear into soft flesh.

From where he stood, something behind him caught the corner of Sam's eye.

Without fear, Sam tuned his head to the animal facing him and glanced over his shoulder.

A narrow, jagged path that led into the rock face.

A crevice that was not too small for his tall and thin frame.

This was it.

This was the key.

The Black Dog, giant and sniffing, savoring the scent of a fresh meal before it.

With his entire body numb to the biting cold and his eyes now the color of hard obsidian, Sam took a slow, calculating step back wards.

The Black Dog snarled in fury and matched Sam's step back with a slow step forward.

Sam continued backing away, getting closer and closer to the narrow opening behind him.

Then, in a brazen act of insult, Sam turned his back to the Black Dog, staring over his shoulder at it in an almost mocking manner, and walked slowly into the passage way.

If it were possible, the murderous rage in the Black Dog's sunken eyes increased another level as it took a few more calculating steps forward.

It's snarling grew louder and more guttural with each paw fall on the hard dirt.

Sam carefully eased his way into the jagged crevice, maneuvering as best he could with his father's shotgun against his back. He weaved his way in wards until he deemed himself to be deep enough inside before turning his full attention back on his mangy opponent.

The Black Dog took one final step before it crouched down low on it's hind legs.

Sam could tell that the Dog's sinews and muscles were tightening themselves beneath it's shaggy fur. Sam raised his arms, aiming the business end of his revolver at the beast.

" Come and get me you ugly son of a bitch." Said Sam, he didn't scream these words, just spoke them with quiet venom.

But, volume didn't matter, the Dog heard the challenge crystal clear.

That snapped whatever internal clip was holding the spring back.

With a roar, the Black Dog launched itself into the air with all the power it's hind legs could muster, catapulting itself at the youngest Winchester.

Sam stood stark still, holding his ground firmly for the first few seconds, then on instinct he began squeezing the trigger of his gun, firing bullets furiously at his would be murderer.

**BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! **

Sam got off eight rounds before his gone clicked, signaling that there were no more bullets left to fire, in the split second this registered in his brain, Sam was violently throwing himself backward and away from the Black Dog and it's eager jagged teeth.

As he fell back wards, Sam heard a dull and satisfying thud in front of him before his own flight was abruptly ended when his back impacted with the hard and cold ground.

He was dimly aware that he'd probably have a bruise on his back in the morning.

Then, another welcome sound filled Sam's ears.

" ARRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

This sound was the pitiful, howling wail of the Black Dog where it hung, jammed mid-leap between the two solid, immovable rock walls of the passage way, now bleeding from several more bullet wounds.

Wedged in too deep to wriggle it's way out.

Trapped.

Sam climbed slowly to his feet and eyed his enemy.

" RRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

The Dog howled again, trying futilely to free itself but it was useless.

It hung were it was wedged, snarling and growling.

As he stood there staring at the beast that had wanted to rip him to shreds, Sam didn't feel fear only a hyper awareness of things around him.

Bits of frost falling from the sky landing on the bare skin of his arms.

The cold air that filled his lung with each breath he took.

The wind rustling against the tree.

The moon's soft light as the stormy clouds that had obscured it slowly dispersed.

" ARROOOOOOOOOOOOOOAHHHH!!!!"

The Black Dog howled mournfully, knowing that it's death was near.

With a steadying breath, Sam Winchester unshouldered his father's shotgun.

He held it with perfect form, his hand unmoving with not even the slightest tremor, not even from the bitter cold.

Sam watched as the Black Dog opened it's mouth wide to howl once more and he seized the moment.

The animal's cry was cut abruptly short with a gagging yelp as the muzzle of a shotgun was jabbed forcefully down it's throat.

A small, sad sigh escaped Sam as he stood there at a precipice within his own soul.

He knew that after this night, he would never be the same ever again.

He would never be the same person ever again.

And with this silent lament of what he was about to loose for the rest of his life...

Sam pulled the trigger.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural and I am not making any profits off of this story. It all belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke so, please don't sue and please don't be offended by the language or situations the characters find themselves in.

Chapter 5

**BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!**

The sound of the shotgun blast was deafening.

The recoil of the gun nearly forced him to take a step back wards.

Nearly.

Sam shut his eyes and jerked his head away sharply to the side as he felt a mist of thick, warm liquid spray him.

It cooled instantly against the pale white skin of his exposed arms, the side of his neck, and his left cheek.

Slowly, very slowly, Sam turned his head back around to stare at the aftermath of the shotgun's devastating discharge.

It was quiet now, everything was shrouded in stillness.

Sam breathed through his nose, his nostrils taking in calm, steady breaths.

Instantly, the thick sent of buck-shot, gun powder, and bloody gore filled the smell receptors in his nose, the stench tickling the back of his throat.

The Black Dog, a hound from the very depths of Hell itself, his adversary, hung limp and unmoving.

Eyes that were once fiery red and filled with bright hatred and rage were now gazing at Sam extinguished, just two dull orbs of dead maroon. The entire back of the Black Dog's neck was gone.

The blast from the shotgun had punched a messy, jagged hole clean through bone, flesh, and fur, severing brain from spinal cord in one fell swoop.

The dead thing's mouth hung wide open, a lax, pink tongue flecked with specks of red dangled listlessly over one side of it's jagged toothed jaw. It dripped tendrils of cold saliva onto the frost covered ground.

Sam became dimly aware that the snow had ceased falling from the Heavens.

With a slow blink of his eyes, Sam yanked on the shotgun he was still holding. He pulled till the muzzle came loose from it's grotesque lodging with a wet, slippery sound.The Black Dog's head slumped over like a marionette who's string had been cut.

Sam slowly brought his gaze downward and stared at his hand, morbid fascination filling him as he eyed how the shotgun and his hands were splattered with a vivid, deep red.

It was then that Sam felt revulsion bubble up from within the pit of his stomach, hot and boiling.

With his nose wrinkling in disgust and annoyance swirling in his eyes, Sam took a small step back and opened up his father's shotgun with a slippery click, he turned the gun over and held it vertical, he lightly shook the spent bullet shells out of the chamber.

He then closed the gun and lightly set it down against the rock wall of the narrow passage way that had literally been the barrier between him and certain death.

With a deep breath, Sam began wiping his hands clean as best he could, lightly running them over the rock wall.

He would've wiped his hands of his pant but, he just didn't want to and he was pretty sure his father wouldn't appreciate any further blood stains to the interior of the Impala than was necessary seeing as to how John himself would most likely be making a fine mess himself with that mangled leg of his.

But, back to current events...

_" This feels like demented finger painting."_ Thought Sam to himself as the shiny black rock before him was slowly being adorned with jagged lines of inky red.

When Sam deemed that he had gotten rid of most of the sticky mess that clung to his hands, Sam took the extra measure of wiping his hand further on the front of his torn and already bloodied shirt.

Then he turned back to his kill and now that the dilemma of death had been successfully averted, a new dilemma made itself known.

How the fuck was he supposed to get out of here now?

Sam didn't need a flashlight to know that this passage way led to either a dead end of solid rock or a sheer drop to either hard frozen water, or even harder solid ground.

Besides, Sam didn't want to go further down this narrow path.

And so, for the next couple of seconds, Sam stood there facing the Black Dog he had just wasted and thought of how he would get himself out of his involuntary imprisonment.

Then, an idea struck him.

He still had Dean's large hunting knife stuffed in the waist band of his jeans.

Sam reached behind him and pulled out the weapon, he held it in hands caked with blood and pulled it free of it's sheath.

The deadly blade, which he'd seen Dean sharpen with reverence and fever the night before, glinted brightly as the light of the moon reflected off of it's smooth, metallic surface.

He eyed the blade and then turned his attention back to the large corpse wedged deep between the two rock walls, barring him from his freedom.

With his eyes calculating and appraising, Sam looked over at the bloody remains of what was once a vicious, blood thirsty Black Dog.

Sam silently eyed the massive damage done to the Dog's neck by his shotgun.

The only thing that still attached the Dog's head to the rest of it's body was basically a sliver of flesh and fur.

Sam's a blank mask, void of everything as he coldly eyed this fact, then with a twirl of his brother's knife he advanced on the corpse of his fallen opponent.

_" You wouldn't mind if I slimmed down just a little more now, would you?"_ Thought Sam before he set to work on freeing himself.

Besides, this thing really didn't require certain bodily parts anymore now did it?

_Meanwhile, a mere twenty minutes earlier back down the wooded path that led to Sam's location... _

Dean and John Winchester were both still limping and stumbling along, feeling cold, terrified, and exhausted.

They were basically halfway through the path when they heard the first muffled sounds of what was transpiring up ahead at the still distant end of the path.

_BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!_

The unmistakable sounds of gunshots made the two Winchesters pick up the pace, both of them immediately knowing that the shots were being fired by Sam.

But then, silence followed the multiple bursts of sound.

_**" Oh God Sammy!"**_ Was the thought that lanced through both Dean and John's terrified minds and then...

_"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM" _

The ear shattering echo of a shotgun exploded through the air.

This loud echo made both John and Dean stop dead in their tracks for a few eternally long seconds.

**" Sammy!"** Yelled Dean, he was about to take off running in a chaotic mad dash the rest of the way down the but then he remembered his slightly hobbled father a few steps behind him. With a small noise of frustration and cursing the Black Dog that had caused his father's minor handicap, Dean trotted over to his father as fast as he could .

He grabbed John's arm and all but flung it over his own shoulders so that his father was leaning with most of his weight on his oldest son.

" C'mon, we have to get to the end of this Goddamn path sometime this century!" Gritted out Dean.

John nodded mutely, feeling self loathing wash over him as he and Dean hobbled along the path as fast as they could.

He never should have let that stupid mongrel beast get the drop on him and use his leg as a chew toy.

He was supposed to be the senior hunter of this family, it should have been him taking out the thing they were hunting.

Now as they pushed onward, Dean and John felt their terror increase because now, there was only silence, deep and unyielding silence.

The echoes of gun shots and one loud blast had long since faded leaving both father and oldest son desperate to know who had won that battle that had surely happened.

Who was the victor?

Was it the black Dog who had a clear advantage by being a bloody thirsty monster that had already claimed several lives?

Or.

Was it the thirteen year old kid, who they knew to always be too soft hearted and way too inexperienced to take on an evil being that they themselves had been demolished by in the very first round?

Different scenarios of their youngest one mangled, maimed, and worse assaulted both John and Dean's minds without pause as the two of them stumbled furiously down the black dirt path, following the now frozen blood trail.

The two injured Winchesters soldiered on until after some of the most agonizing minutes of their entire lives, they were in sight of the end of this God forsaken long path of cold dirt.

When they were just a few steps away, Dean sucked in as much air as his lungs could take and screamed out a single word with every fiber of being.

**" SAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!!!!"**

Dean waited anxiously for a reply to his loud beckoning but nothing answered him back, there was just silence still.

With his terror spiking, Dean stumbled along to wards the end of the path, pulling an equally scared John along with him.

The two older Winchesters entered the clearing where the rock face loomed ominously against the night sky.

" SAMMY!!!!" Yelled out John, desperate to find his youngest child.

His shout echoed through the silence and faded, still no answer back.

John and Dean looked around frantically for _any_ sign of life.

" Dad the blood trail, it's leading to those rocks over there." Said Dean, his voice lilted with the slightest tremor as he pointed to the rock face.

John nodded mutely and together, he and Dean made the painful trek to wards the rock face.

Dean's shoulders and his back were on fire from having his father's weight on him, John's uninjured leg was throbbing and pulsating viciously as over taxed muscles made themselves known.

But still, they moved on, not caring so much about their sorry states and focused solely on finding that which was most precious to them.

The two of them pushed themselves onward till they were at a portion of the rock face that jutted outward like a crude canopy.

" Dad, why don't you sit here, I can go further, you shouldn't be on that leg." Suggested Dean as he eyed how pale and in pain his father was.

" Can it Dean, that's an order." Barked John through gritted teeth.

" Yes sir." Replied Dean as he tightened his hold on his father as they kept walking.

The two older Winchesters rounded the corner of the rock canopy and the second they did, they both stopped dead in their tracks as their eyes fell on the site before them.

The air was squeezed out of both pairs of lungs and temporarily faltered in doing their mandatory functions.

_" Oh... My... God..."_ Whispered Dean hoarsely while John was too shocked to form even a single syllable.

There before them was a scene straight out of the most hellish of nightmares.

There was deep, oily red staining the two rocky walls of a narrow passage way, the black frost covered ground was tinged crimson by it.

The moonlight shined off of the wet surface.

A metallic stench wafted through the air.

And there a few feet before Dean and John lay a bloodied and slightly minced mound of black fur, and a tall shaggy haired figure they recognized immediately, even though he had his back to them.

Sam.

The thirteen year old stood tall and unmoving, not acknowledging that his family was standing behind him.

His hands were hidden from view and he remained utterly mute.

With the cog wheels of his brain jumbled but turning, Dean slowly took a step forward bringing himself and John closer.

With a thick swallow, Dean forced his vocal cords into service.

" S-Sammy?" He asked with a voice barely just a few octaves above a whisper.

" Son?" Added John, sounding just as unsure and truly afraid.

From where he stood, Sam blinked as the voices of his brother and his father reached his ears.

With a last lingering look at the dead creature that lay before him, Sam slowly began to move.

Dean and John watched with bated breath as Sam turned around with the speed of a snail.

The moment their youngest was fully facing them, John and Dean literally felt their hearts screech to a halt and freeze dead within their chests.

The left side of Sam's face was speckled with tiny to medium sized drops of reddish black blood, there was a large shiny splatter down the same side of his neck, the whole front of his once long sleeved sweater/shirt was covered in both the initial spray and the mess of his most recent actions with Dean's hunting knife.

Though all of this was horrifying, it wasn't until Dean and John's eyes moved down to Sam's hands that they felt an all consuming terror more powerful than the fear they'd been feeling when they'd been stumbling down the path earlier, settled over them.

The top halves of Sam's bare arms were pale, stark white.

The lower halves seemed to have been messily dipped in red.

In his right hand, Sam held his brother's hunting knife, which was slick and dripping the crimson fluid that stained most everything on him and around him.

In his left hand...

Sam tightly gripped the severed head of the Black Dog.

Black fur over a sunken, shriveled face.

It's jaw hanging limp and open like a broken hinge.

Dead and decapitated.

The youngest Winchester stared back at his father and his brother with a blank expression on his face and his eyes dead on any emotion what so ever.

He eyed the horror written clearly over their faces with silent disinterest and then, he drew back his right arm a little and like a pendulum he swing forward, his fingers releasing at the end, releasing the heavy burden they were clinging to.

The Black Dog's head lightly sailed to the still air and landed on the ground with an almost inaudible thud.

It went further due to momentum, rolling like a heinous rubber ball.

It came to a stop at Dean and John Winchester's feet and stared at the two horrified men with dull, unseeing eyes.

Who was the victor of the battle?

The thirteen year old kid named Samuel Winchester.

That's who.


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural and I am not making any profits off of this story. It all belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke so, please don't sue and please don't be offended by the language or situations the characters find themselves in.

Chapter 6

A cold, biting wind rustled through the frozen, leafless branches of the winter blacked trees of the forest.

From where they stood, still rooted to the spot and still terrified, Dean and John Winchester gawked with their mouths hanging slightly open.

There eyes were glued to the severed head of the Black Dog where it had lightly rolled to a stop after it had been almost casually tossed at them.

By Sam.

The two older Winchesters stared at the Dead thing's head with a horrified kind of fascination.

The head lay slightly on one side, it's eyes two glazed over pools of murky reddish brown, the mouth was still ajar, a lumpy pink mass protruded out of it, wet and adhesive as loose pieces of the black dirt that compiled the Forrest floor sticking to it.

The two older Winchesters were so engrossed in their morbid gawking, they both nearly jumped out of their skins when unknown sounds, amplified by the silence drilled into their ears.

Dean and John tore their gazes away from the grisly, severed body part that lay at their feet and look back up to stare at where Sam had been standing.

Sharp gasps escaped them both at what they now beheld.

Sam for his part ignored his father and brother, he was too busy trying to dispose of the headless carcass of the Black Dog he had singled handedly killed and had deftly butchered earlier. At the moment, Sam was using whatever strength and adrenaline he had left to yank, push, shove, and man handle the still moderately heavy body of the Black Dog back through the narrow crevice he had only minutes ago dislodged it from in order to gain his own freedom.

They also took notice of the shotgun Sam had used where it was leaning against the rock wall, splattered with an obscene amount of oily red blood.

Silently Dean maneuvered John to wards an unbloodied section of the rock face so that his injured father could lean against it.

Then he swallowed thickly and took a slow, cautious step forward, moving past the bodiless head on the ground and moving closer to his blood drenched baby sibling who was softly hissing and grunting from his current exertions.

" S-Sammy... uh... What...um...What are you doin' Buddy?" Asked Dean, his voice quiet and unsure as he eyed Sam.

Sam carried on plowing and prodding at the Black Dog's carcass with his hands and his boot covered feet, ignoring Dean for some eternally long minutes before he finally stopped his pushing and shoving to slowly twist his neck and look over his shoulder to eye an uncharacteristically freaked looking big brother.

Again, for what seemed an eternity, Sam just silently stared at Dean with the occasional blink of icy blank eyes.

Then, his colorless lips parted and he spoke.

" I don't exactly have what's necessary to Salt and Burn this Fucker so, I'm shoving him in here." Growled Sam.

The sound of his voice was so cold and foreign, the words were so un-Sammy like that it sent chills up Dean spine.

" Are you both okay?" Asked Sam as with a small glance in John's direction, he turned back and once again began pushing and stomping the carcass of his kill back into the narrow crevice.

He finally succeed in all his efforts as with a small, slurping sound the bloody mass of flesh and black fur disappeared through the jagged crack that split the rock

That effectively jolted Dean out of his stupor, forgetting his horror and switching to big brother mode, he strode over the rest of the way to Sam.

In one fluid motion, he grabbed his brother's shoulder and yanked him away from the grisly task he was performing, he wrenched the younger boy around so that they were facing each other.

" Me and Dad are just peachy. God, are you alright Sammy? Are you hurt any where? Did that thing bite you?" Asked Dean very rapidly in urgency.

Sam blinked and then spoke in a flat and slightly annoyed voice.

" I'm fine Dean, no bit marks, no scratches, I might have a bruise on my back from when I fell earlier but _that's all._" Answered Sam, emphasizing the last part.

Dean made a few sputtering noised before he wrenched Sam around so that his back was to him. Without asking for permission, Dean gripped the hem of Sam's torn up shirt and yanked it all the way up to reveal his brother's pale back.

Sure enough, there was a dark reddish purple mark marring the smooth, pale skin.

A low grunt to Dean's right informed him that John had limped his way over to them and was staring at his youngest son's back.

The two older Winchesters were both relieved to see that the injury was a superficial one that would clear up in a few days.

But they were also in disbelieving awe that this was all Sam received from his battle with a vicious Black Dog that had a full two feet height and 100 pound advantage that had nearly chewed his father's leg off and had nearly fractured his brother's skull.

" Are you guys done ogling my back?" Asked Sam, making his thinning patience loud and clear.

The next thing Sam knew, he was being wrenched back around and yanked forward, arms encircling him and squeezing the air out of his lungs.

Sam's heart skipped a beat when he realized that his father, the same man who just the night before had screamed at him and basically told him he was a good for nothing screw up, a mistake...

Was hugging him to the point of pain.

As he stood there, Sam felt the part of him he'd locked away deep inside him screeching and clawing at him, wanting to be free of it's prison and come back to the surface, back to his heart, urging him to sink into his father's embrace and weep for all he was worth.

This part of him had almost broken through the lock when the echoes of his father's enraged voice swooped back into his mind.

_YEAH WELL, IT'D BE A HELL OF A LOT BETTER IF YOU WERE MORE LIKE DEAN, AT LEAST THEN YOU WOULDN'T BE SUCH A WHINY LITTLE BRAT WHO SCREWS UP LEFT AND RIGHT!!!_

And then, the echoes of Dean's voice coupled it.

_Well fine then, be all bitchy, but Dad is right, this hunt is way more important, people's lives are way more important than some stupid school play that doesn't mean jack, You're just being a selfish little freak!_

As these echoing words swirled around in his head, Sam felt his cracked and dented heart become surrounded by a cocoon of ice, becoming like an unfeeling cinder block within his chest.

Killing any urge to forgive and forget within it.

Now, Sam didn't want his father's arms wrapped tightly around him anymore, they didn't warm him, they didn't make him feel good, in fact they actually made his skin prickle in protest and he couldn't bring himself to tolerate them around him for even another millisecond.

John was just so happy that his baby boy was alright that, he was slightly confused when he felt his youngest son go rigid in his hold with his arms remaining plastered to his sides limply.

Sam always needed a hug and reassurance after a bad hunt so, what was going on, why wasn't his son hugging him back and bawling his eyes out like he should have been?

" Dad, let go of me you're gonna get all bloody and, I can't breath." Said Sam quietly, not meeting his father's or his brother's imploring eyes as he began to extricate himself from John's vice like hold.

His son's words made John's arms slacken a little and Sam pounced on the opening, taking a step back, effectively freeing himself.

He gave his father and Dean a cold, distant look before he turned and walked off to where his long ago discarded winter coat lay.

John and Dean shared a confused look to one another before they turned their stunned gazes back to Sam, watching him as he stood by a patch of the rock face and once again began to wipe his hands and arms over the rock in an attempt to clean the sticky, dark red fluid that stained his skin.

The two older Winchesters also caught sight of the blood smeared handles of both Dean's hunting knife had somehow been re-sheathed, where Sam had tucked it into his right back pocket and the silver revolver where he'd tucked it into the waistband of his jeans.

Sam carried on in his rudimentary cleaning of himself and when he deemed that he'd wiped off enough of the mess that covered him, he reached down with still blood caked fingers and picked up his heavy winter coat and pulled it on, finally giving his bare, effectively numbed skin a reprieve from the bitter cold.

Once he had his coat on, Sam silently turned and walked right past his still stunned family back to wards the crevice where he'd disposed of his defeated opponent's remains.

He stopped short of the Black Dog's final resting place and turned to the side, snatching up his father's blood splattered shotgun from where he'd left it.

Once that was done, he turned once again and walked over to his family.

He stood before them utterly mute and with his eyes not meeting theirs.

For what seemed a life age of the Earth, the three Winchester's stood in the deepest of silence.

Then, it was shattered by the oldest.

" Sammy, what the Hell happened out here? What did you do? How... How did you...?" John began, trailing off as the full magnitude of the realization of what had happened here began to pour down on him.

Still not meeting the two imploring gazes of his father and brother, Sam parted his lips and answered with a quiet question of his own.

" Can we get out of here first?"

Dean opened his mouth to protest but Sam quietly cut him off.

" I'll tell you guys everything that happened once we're home, you're both hurt, you hit your head really hard Dean, and that thing chewed on your leg Dad."

Dean and John both blinked at their youngest owlishly but, they say the logic in his words.

" Alright Sammy, we'll get out of here first, then you are explaining _everything_ that happened, is that understood?" Asked John, dead serious in his tone.

Sam still didn't look up to meet his father and brother's gaze but, he answered like a good little soldier.

" Yes sir."

" Alright then, let's get out of here." Said John with a lingering look at his youngest, he could feel that something was off with his boy and a secret glance to Dean showed that he wasn't the only one with this feeling.

John turned and took a tentative step forward and almost instantly, he began to stumble.

But before he even began falling, another person's body was pressing against his side and throwing his arm over their shoulders.

John turned, expecting to see Dean retaking his earlier position as his father's steadying crutch.

Instead, John felt a jolt go through him when it was Sammy, his youngest who was steadying him.

" Take it easy Dad, Dean's hurt, I'm here I got you." Said Sam quietly, his eyes staring off ahead and not at his father.

He had one arm wrapped around John's back while he held his father's bloody shotgun in his other hand.

On the outside, Sam was blank and numb but on the inside, Sam felt all the anger and hurt to wards the man he was now holding up bubbling and swirling.

He really didn't want either his father or his brother's hands to be anywhere near him.

A small part of him wanted nothing more than to let Dean and John stumble back down the way they had come.

But he just couldn't bring himself to do that to these two whom he _did_ still love despite everything, especially Dean, he looked terrible and even in the darkness, Sam could see that a large, nasty looking bruise had formed.

He would just have to bare this unwanted closeness for the time being.

Confused and also warmed by his child's words, John gripped Sam's shoulder and leaned just a little bit on him as he began to walk, glancing to the side to eye his oldest son.

Dean was still standing and staring at Sam, questions written all over his face just begging to be asked.

" Dean." Called John.

That snapped Dean out of whatever trance he was in, with a swallow and turning his head to stare at the blood drenched rock walls one last time, Dean trotted over and took his father's other side he and Sam giving John support on both sides now.

" Dude, you should take it easy with your head the way it is, I can hold up Dad, it's fine." Insisted Sam as he gave Dean a momentary glance.

" It's a really long way back to the car Sammy, two is better that one." Shot back Dean with a small huff.

Sam didn't voice anymore protests, he didn't voice anything more at all and just kept his eyes front as he walked doing his part to hold up his injured father.

Together, the three Winchesters began the long trek back down the path.

But as they walked, John and Dean were riddled with questions upon question, all pertaining to the thirteen year old member of their family.

Just what the Hell was going on?


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural and I am not making any profits off of this story. It all belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke so, please don't sue and please don't be offended by the language or situations the characters find themselves in.

Chapter 7

The loud rumbling roar of a car engine filled the still night air as a sleek Black 1967 Chevy Impala glided gracefully over the shiny black top of the highway at nearly full speed.

The dark, skeletal black woods that loomed on either side of the road flew past the Impala's windows like inky blurs.

John Winchester was sitting dutifully behind the wheel of the vehicle, years of training and sheer will power keeping the immense amounts of pain he was at bay as he focused as much of his concentration on driving as he could.

It wasn't easy because he had several other important thoughts in his mind that were all jockeying to become the chief thought in his head.

One, among all these other thoughts concerned the seventeen year old young man riding shotgun beside him in the front passenger seat with a pressing need of ice for the large, unsightly purplish bruise gracing the side of his head.

Another pressing thought concerned the thirteen year old boy occupying the bag seat, utterly silent and staring out the car window at the passing scenery with a eerily calm expression despite the fact that underneath that large winter coat he was wearing, he was thoroughly drenched in Black Dog's blood.

And third among these pressing thoughts concerned the horrific events that had transpired merely an hour and a half ago back down the road, deep inside the woods. The events that had led to the three Winchesters being in the states that they were in.

Two of them with moderate to severe injuries and one with what the other two assumed was in shock.

As he drove, John kept glancing up at the rear view mirror, eying his thirteen year old son with growing concern and questions bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

Dean was silently mirroring his father's actions, also using the rear view mirror to eye his baby brother in the back seat.

From where he sat supposedly staring out the window, Sam was fully aware that his family was discreetly staring at him.

And with good reason, he did after all still have blood spatter gracing the left side of his face and neck, it was almost dry now, as was the blood that he hadn't been able to wipe away on the rock face earlier.

He knew they couldn't help it but he still wished they would cut it out so that his dad would put his focus mainly on the road and not crash into anything cause he really didn't want them all to still end up dying tonight, especially after everything he had suffered through to keep them all alive against the Black Dog.

He was was bone tired now.

And so, for the better part of two hours, John Winchester drove through the darkness of the mere 11:00 night, back to the safety civilization in the form of the small town they were temporarily calling home.

The quiet, slightly run down neighborhood they'd situated themselves in was a welcome sight to all three Winchesters.

With the fatigue he'd been keeping at bay finally beginning to wash over him, John pulled the Impala up in front of the rented house. With a soft sputter, the engine was turned off.

Before John or Dean could even open their mouths to speak, Sam all but bolted out of the backseat of the car.

The two older Winchesters watched as first, their youngest stopped at the driver's side door and wordlessly yanked it open. Then he trotted off to wards the house. flying up the cement stairs to that led to the front door. Sam fished out his set of house keys from one of his coat pockets and opened the door in one fluid motion.

Before the door itself had even fully swung open, Sam was already bolting back down the steps and running back to the Impala where his big brother and his father had yet to move.

Sam came to a halt at his father's side and gazed at them both expectantly before he spoke with quiet urgency clear in his voice.

" Guys c'mon, we gotta get inside before the neighbors see us."

That effectively snapped both Dean and John back to the present situation.

As fast as he could, Dean got out of the Impala and rushed over to the driver's side door while John slowly began to force his injured body to climb out of the vehicle. Sam and Dean both reached out and grasped their father's arms to steady him as he stood with a small, stifled groan and his face tight with pain as his injured leg was jarred.

As they did in the woods hours before, the two younger Winchesters helped their father limp his way up to the house.

John grunted as he hopped up the front steps, grateful to his youngest son for his good sense of earlier to open the door first as the three of them entered the house.

The three of them made a B-line for the living room where John and Dean both wearily collapsed onto the large, ratty old sofa situated there.

Without either his father or his brother noticing, Sam disappeared off into the kitchen, he did allow himself to indulge in the need for rest, no matter how well earned it was. After all, there were more pressing matters that still needed to be tended to asap.

Back in the living room, Dean let a small groan escape him as he turned his attention to his more grievously injured father.

" Hey Dad how're you-Ahhoww!!!" Dean's question was abruptly cut off as he felt something glacially cold being pressed a little to hard against the tender bruise that graced his head, the battle wound he'd received from the battled he's lost against the Black Dog this night. Dean's hand flew up to his head, his fingers instantly sharing the frigid feeling against his temple.

Dean and John looked up to see Sam looming over them, with one blood caked hand he was pressing a large ice pack to his brother's head with an unflinching, iron grip. In his other hand, he was holding the med-kit they kept in one of the kitchen cupboards.

Wordlessly, Sam placed the med-kit on the coffee table, dexterously opening it with a soft click, he also let go of the ice pack, his hand numb and unfeeling...

Like his heart was now.

Without bothering to even spare his father and brother the slightest of glances, Sam turned his back to them, peeled off his winter coat to reveal the congealed mess of dark red that was hidden beneath, threw it over the banister, and then swiftly disappeared up the stairs to the second floor.

All before Dean or John could even part their lips to utter a single syllable.

As he silently climbed the stairs and wearily dragged himself into the bathroom and switched on the light. Sam felt disgust bubble in his stomach as he felt the sticky, congealed blood over his skin and clothing.

It was cold and itchy over his arms and face and most likely against his torso because it had seeped in through the material of his ruined shirt.

With a soft click of the lock on the bathroom door, Sam turned and stood before the mirror above the sink, finally able to gaze upon his appearance with his own two eyes.

And indeed, in his own opinion, he was an absolutely horrendous sight to behold.

Perfect little circles of now blackish red dotted his left cheek, there was a thick spatter down the left side of his neck that stained into his shirt collar.

With a small swallow, Sam blinked and then moved his gaze downward on his reflection in the mirror.

His torn, tan colored sweater shirt was deeply saturated in intricate little blood spatters. Ruined, no chance of being salvaged.

At this, Sam lamented a little.

This had been one of his favorite shirts too.

Then, Sam turned his gaze away from his reflection, instead he looked down at his hands as he held them in front of him.

They were caked in streaks of dark crimson red, from the very tips of his fingers to just below his elbows.

These were no longer the hands of a thirteen year old child.

No.

These were the hands of a hunter, a predator... A butcher.

These were his hands, for now and forever.

Blowing out a deep, slow breath through his nostrils Sam dropped his hands and turned away from the mirror.

He turned his attention to the bath tub and closed the sparse distance between it and himself with a single step.

Now he really wanted all this nasty shit off of him.

Sam reached for the tarnished faucets that hung over the head of the tub.

The hot and cold faucets squeaked as Sam turned them, the sound amplified by the silence that blanketed the bathroom.

The silence was fully shattered as the sound of water rapidly flowing and crashing and splashing onto porcelain.

There was another squeak of metal as Sam turned the tap in the middle, switching the flow of water so that it began raining down from the shower head.

Sam drew the shower curtain so that the rest of the bathroom wouldn't get sprayed and let the steam build.

While that happened, Sam clenched his jaw as he gripped the hem of his ruined shirt and began pulling it off.

It was then that Sam's only physical injury from his battle with the Black Dog made itself known as the bruise on his back just below the space between his shoulder blades protested loudly to the movement.

Sam ignored the pain, pulling his bloodied shirt off and let it drop to the floor soundlessly.

The youngest Winchester took a moment to once again eye himself in the mirror.

The Black Dog's blood had seeped in through the material of his shirt, staining his chest and abdomen in light smears of red as well.

Sam turned his gaze away from his mirror image and went back to undressing himself.

He leaned against the sink as he untied his heavy winter boots and pulled off his socks. Next, he peeled off his only slightly blood stained pants, there fate would have to rest of whether or not the blood could be washed off. Then, Sam took off his boxer shorts, divesting himself of his final article of clothing before he pulled back some of the shower curtain and stepped into the tub.

The almost too hot shower's spray that assaulted Sam the moment he was standing fully in the tub was welcomed with open arms by his nearly hypothermic body.

Sam enjoyed the heavenly feeling of being warmed for a few minutes before he remembered why he was taking this shower in the dead of night.

He brought his arms fully under the spray, diluting the caked on blood and then scrubbing off as much of it as he could with his hands.

Sam watched in fascination as the red blood mixed with the clear water, splashing and dripping off of him into the tub.

The tendrils of deep red swirled and danced around his bare, slightly submerged feet as they snaked their way to the drain and disappeared down the little hole into the unseen pipe that was connected to it.

When he deemed that enough of the excess blood had gone down the drain, Sam reached with a still somewhat bloodied hand for one of the bottles of shower gel from the shower rack.

He poured a liberal amount of the clear-blue into his hand and once he'd set the bottle back on the rack, he rubbed his hands together to build up a foamy lather.

The soap smelled like a weak version of Irish Spring.

At least it said it was antibacterial.

Sam slathered the foam all over his still red covered body, scrubbing at his skin.

At first, he scrubbed slowly.

But with each cleansing stroke, Sam felt anger bubble up from his stomach and beat through his fractured and dented heart, spreading it boiling and all consuming through his veins.

His scrubbing grew faster and faster with each passing second as his anger soon turned into a volatile, furious rage.

With a scream that he used all his will to muffle so that it sounded more like a strangled growl, Sam stopped scrubbing at his arms and face and instead, sent his fist flying into the tiled wall.

Thankfully, Sam pulled back some of the force behind his hand at the last minute, the tiles that his knuckles connected with cracked jaggedly, but didn't break fully.

Sam's chest heaved as he breathed rapidly through his nose, riding out the waves of his fury. When his hammering heart calmed down enough, Sam remembered that he was in the shower, stilled moderately covered in frothy pinkish soap, with hot water cascading over him.

Sam jerked his hand away from the wall and quickly rinsed himself off.

Once that was done, Sam speedily turned off the water and grabbed up a couple of the dark green towels from where they hung over the metal bar that held the shower curtain.

He wrapped one snuggly around his waist and used the other one to dry his hair and upper body as fast as he could.

He just wanted to get out of the bathroom as fast as he could.

He sparred his bloodied clothes where they lay near the door and decided he'd take care of them later as he all but bolted out of the bathroom and down the hall to the bedroom he and Dean shared.

Once he was inside the bedroom, he made a B-line for his bed and sat down at the foot with a heavy sigh.

As he sat there, Sam felt the last of his rage flee from his being, leaving only an emptiness as deep at the Grand Canyon within his soul.

He sat in the silence for a little while before he remembered that his father and him brother were downstairs.

With another sigh, and feeling the emptiness within him fled with the residual ache of his still freshly wounded heart and the dull anger at his father and brother, Sam forced himself to his feet and quickly found a t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants from the dresser.

He garbed himself as fast as he could, his bruised back protesting to the movement yet again.

Once he was dressed, Sam took a deep breath and walked out of his and Dean's bed room and down the hall to the stairs.

After all, he had promised his family an explanation of what the Hell had happened tonight.


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural and I am not making any profits off of this story. It all belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke so, please don't sue and please don't be offended by the language or situations the characters find themselves in.

Chapter 8

As he climbed down the stairs, Sam could hear the muffled grunts of his father and the hushed apologies coupled with reassurances of his brother. For a second Sam was tempted to turn around, climb back up the stairs, and climb into bed, forgetting all about his promise to tell them both the full, gruesome tale of what had happened.

Cause quiet frankly, he had had enough of both his father and his brother right now, he was tired, he was cold, and he was still angry at them both for how they'd hurt him.

As Sam climbed down the final step, John let out a loud groan of pain as Dean gingerly pressed a cotton ball dipped in peroxide to the small gash that graced the side of his father's head.

Naturally, it stung like a bitch.

But, both John and Dean forgot all about injuries when they noticed that their youngest one was standing at the base of the stairs.

They were both expecting to see their Sammy, looking scared and in desperate need of a chick-flick moment now that the adrenaline had finally worn off. They were expecting nervous fidgeting and eyes brimming in tears coupled with a trembling jaw and hands.

A child, afraid and in desperate need of comfort after a nightmarish experience, like always.

The person who stood before them now in actuality was the farthest thing from what they were expecting.

Sam stood tall and silent. His eyes were clear, not tears. They were like to chips of icy jade as they stared at John and Dean. Every inch of him was calm and steady, not even the smallest tremor anywhere. Not even the too large T-shirt and the baggy sweats he'd put on made him look young and vulnerable.

There was no fear What.So.Ever.

Still utterly silent, Sam walked across the room to his family.

But, he stopped in front of the coffee table, keeping it like a barrier between them and him.

The three of them stayed in the silence for what seemed like hours instead of seconds before Sam's still colorless lips parted.

" Are you guys alright?" He asked in a flat, emotionless voice as he eyed his father and brother's injuries.

" We're gonna be just fine Sammy, what about you, are you alright son?" Asked John, pinning his youngest with a small look.

He really wanted to know is his son was alright, like any father would.

" I'm fine." Came the curt answer in the same emotionless voice.

Silence reigned over the three of them again before with a small breath, Sam spoke again.

" After the Black Dog had knocked you out Dad, it's come at me an Dean. He shot it in the shoulder but it didn't stop. It tossed him and knocked him out too so I fired at it with my gun. I got it in the neck before it took off deeper into the woods. You were bleeding really bad Dad so, I patched you up as best as I could and then I picked up your shotgun and Dean's knife and went after it."

Here, Sam paused in his recounting of events as both John and Dean voiced their stunned outrage.

" YOU WENT AFTER THAT THING? WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING SAM?!!!" " Yelled John.

" YOU COULD'VE BEEN KILLED SAM, WHERE YOU EVEN THINKING AT ALL?!!!" Added Dean as he and John stared flabbergasted at what their youngest had just revealed.

Sam for his part didn't so much as flinch or blink at once again being yelled at. He patiently and silently waited for their verbal tirades to end before he answered the questions that had been loudly asked.

" Yes, I went after the Black Dog. I know I could've been killed and yes I was thinking. I was thinking that the both of you were out cold, I was the only one left standing and that thing could've come back at any moment to finish us all off. I figured I would just find him and finish him first." He said flatly with a frigid stare at his father and brother.

John and Dean stared wide eyed in stunned awe at their youngest one's words. Before they could say anything, Sam continued one with his tale before he'd been rudely interrupted.

" I followed that things blood trail down the path, it led me to the rock face where I found him actually, he was sorta waiting for me. He circled me and I noticed that narrow crevice in the rock face. I backed into it and when I was deep enough inside, the Dog jump at me. I fell back wards and I shot at it with my handgun, emptied the clip. Next thing I know, the Black Dog's stuck between the walls of the crevice, like I knew he would be cause it was too narrow for him to fit in. After that, I shoved your shotgun down his throat dad, and pulled the trigger." At this point, Sam paused and took a deep breath before he added a final note to his recount of the battle he had fought.

" I blew and hole through the back of his head, I wasted him... It wasn't hard."

John and Dean Winchester sat on the sofa, absolutely speechless as they gawked at the thirteen year old standing across the coffee table from them with their eyes the size of satellite dishes.

Once again, Sam didn't wait for his father or his brother to regain their ability to speak.

" After that, I realized I was stuck in that cracked hole in the rock so, I had to get out the way I can it. That Thing didn't really need it's head and it was barely attached anyway so I used your knife Dean, and I got out. After that, you guys got there... That's it, that's everything that happened."

Sam stared blankly at his family, eying their stunned, slightly horrified expressions with disinterest.

He couldn't really bring himself to give a damn about what they thought or whether they believed his story or not, at the moment, he just wanted to turn around, go upstairs to the bathroom to get his ruined blood soaked clothes, trash them, and then bury himself under the blankets of his bed.

He was thankful that tonight was a Friday night and that he wouldn't have school for two days. He wouldn't have to face the people at school he had let down tonight because of the hunt.

But back to the present, Dean was the first to speak.

" A-Are you serious... i-is that what really happened out there Sammy?" He asked, not really wanting to believe what he'd seen out there in the woods hours ago and what he'd just heard.

He watched as Sam's eyes instantly fell on him, not loosing their coldness but also flashing briefly with something unknown within their moss green depths.

Something dangerous. Something not his baby brother.

But it was only for an instant before it disappeared from Sam's eyes as he answered.

" Yes I'm serious, that's what really happened out there. The only reason I'm standing here in one piece is because that's what happened."

It was now that John Winchester spoke up.

" Be that as it may Sam, what you did was incredibly reckless, you could've gotten yourself killed and then what would me and Dean have done? You should have waited for the both of us to come to instead of going after that thing." At this point, John paused a moment before he sighed and looked at his boy in earnest.

" But, what's done is done. You did take care of the job and you stopped that thing... all by yourself and with only a bruise on your back. I don't know how you managed to pull it all off but, I'm just glad you're alright and, I'm proud of you Sammy." Said John with a smile.

Sam felt his heart lurch painfully within his chest as his father's words of praise echoed through his ears.

These words didn't spread joy through his entire being, they didn't make his spirit soar.

These words made his wish he'd been torn to shreds by the Black Dog he had slaughtered, they made him want to sink into the ground, they made his already broken heart rend itself further.

The two older Winchesters watched utterly taken aback and confused because Sam's face didn't light up at his father's words and he didn't return his father's smile.

His face was a blank mask devoid of any emotion what so ever.

" Thank you for saying that, Sir." Said Sam quietly with a nod of his head before he turned away from his father and brother and swiftly disappeared up the stairs to the second floor before John or Dean could say anything else.

Sam barreled into the bathroom but shut the door as softly as he could. He collapsed against it. The wooden door against his back was the only thing keeping him standing. Everything inside was hurting so badly, like tiny little razor blade slicing through every vein, every nerve, every cell.

His eyes began to burn furious and for a moment, it seemed like Sam was going to break his vow to never shed any tears again as his panting breaths hitched withing his chest.

A tear was about to spill free when moss green eyes fell on the pile of blood soaked clothing that littered the bathroom floor. As he eyed his clothes, Sam felt the agony within him fade to a dull ache, in it's stead, fury and a deep self disgust filled him.

_" Suck it up Sam, you're not allowed to cry like a stupid baby anymore."_ Though Sam as the thirteen year old put a stopper on the formerly impending salty water works.

The pain was buried away down deep as he cleared his head.

Now, even the words his father spoke to him in praise hurt his heart.

With a deep breath, Sam forced himself to calm down and slow his hammering heart.

Then, he used his right foot to lightly kick the ruined articles of clothing closer together and to the side as he reached out for the door knob to the bathroom closet across form him.

With his breath rattling loudly in his ears, Sam opened the closet and searched for the item he needed. He found it resting at the very bottom. In silence, Sam pulled out a large black plastic bag from the rag tag collection of plastic bags that occupied the closet floor. He then knelt down and hastily shoved his bloodied, torn up shirt and equally soaked pants into the bag, he spared his sock and boxers because they'd been unscathed by his earlier bloody escapade.

He also left his boots because the blood could be washed off of them. However, he removed the laces because they were a lost cause and shoved them into the bag as well. He tied the bag off and stowed it away inside the closet, making a note to put it in the trash in the morning.

Now, the anger once again faded away into emptiness, leaving Sam utterly drained and wanting the soft expanses of his bed down the hall.

With what little energy he had left, the boy picked up his unbloodied sock and boxers and dumped them in the hammer, he also tucked his bloodied boots away in the corner beside the closet, making a note to also clean them in the morning as well.

With exhaustion finally washing over and taking hold of him, Sam turned and left the bathroom, dragging himself down the hall.

But even in his tiredness, Sam couldn't help but feel that with each step he took towards his and Dean's bedroom, the remaining particles of who he was before this night from the very beating heart of Hell itself were slowly crumbling away into dust.

_" Is this what dying inside feels like?"_ Thought Sam as he reached his bed and crawled under the covers.

He hadn't bothered with the light because his brother would be coming up from downstairs soon, he didn't want Dean to hurt himself further by having to grope around in the dark.

With a soft sigh, the thirteen year old fell away from the world into a deep and mercifully dreamless sleep.

Some ten minutes later, John Winchester was dragging himself up the stairs with Dean's assistance.

When the two of them reached the second floor, John turned to his oldest.

" Dean, I can make it the rest of the way, you go ahead and get to bed, and make sure your brother's alright, he's probably real upset about tonight, not that I blame him. It's why he bolted up here." Said John as he gave Dean's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

" Yeah, he's probably bawling his eyes out and trying to be quiet about it." Sighed Dean sadly as he nodded to his father. He eyed the closed door of his and Sam's bedroom, and saw that sliver of light that seeped past the bottom.

" Still can't believe what he told us is true, I mean yeah, we both saw for ourselves but it's just..." Dean trailed off.

" It's just hard to believe Sammy could take on something that knocked us both down for the count all by himself and be the one who comes out alive." John finished for him.

Dean nodded in agreement with his father before he spoke quietly, his expression a troubles one.

" Yeah, but it what I saw out there, what Sammy did when we found him, it scared the crap outta me Dad."

John found himself being troubled as well as the still fresh memories of his youngest son throwing the decapitated head of the Black Dog he had single handedly killed at his and Dean's feet assaulted his mind.

" It scared me too Dean. But Sammy's alright, Sammy'll be alright. That's all that really matters." He said with a reassuring look.

Dean nodded and turned, heading for his and Sam's bedroom. John gave his oldest son's retreating form a lingering look before he turned and limped his way over the threshold and into his own room.

Dean grasped the door knob to his and Sam's room and twisted it, he pushed on the wood and it swung away to reveal the room behind it.

As mentioned earlier, he was expecting Sam in scared puppy mode, sitting up against the headboard with his knees drawn up to his chest, upset and in need of a bear hug.

But, the expectation where shattered into billions of pieces as Dean gawked slightly at the sight of his baby brother, fast asleep in his bed.

" Huh." Said a mildly surprised Dean.

No scared puppy here.

He snapped himself out of staring and quietly made his way over to his dresser. He quickly took off his disheveled clothes and donned a clean t-shirt and sleeping pants.

Dean shut of the light with soft click, plunging the room into the quiet darkness needed for sleep.

He climbed into his own bed and lay on his back, he stared at the blank ceiling for a few second before with a sigh, Dean closed his eyes and waited for sleep to claim.

But as the minutes passed, sleep didn't come. Instead, only a nagging feeling settled over Dean. With a small huff, Dean blinked his eyes open and turned his head to the side so he could stare at the bedroom's other occupant.

Sam lay with his back to him, in the quiet of the room, Dean could hear the soft rhythmic breaths that Sam inhaled and exhaled.

Making a decision with himself, Dean threw the covers off of himself and quietly got out of bed. He stealthily made his way over to Sam's bed.

Dean loomed over his sleeping sibling for a few minutes before he gripped the covers and gently pulled them up.

As slowly and carefully as he could, Dean eased himself in beside Sam.

To his immense relief, Sam didn't stir once as his big brother climbed into his bed. Dean wouldn't have been able to live it down had Sam woken up.

Dean carefully wrapped his arms around Sam and gently pulled him closer so that his back was lightly pressed to his big brother's chest.

With a sigh, Dean felt the nagging within his heart fade away with each breath the warm body pressed to his own took.

Dean drifted off into a peaceful slumber with the physical reassurance that his baby brother was safe and alive under his arm.

However, Dean had been wrong in his assumption that he was holding a still sleeping Sam.

A small sigh escaped escaped the thirteen year old as his deep, moss green eyes slowly opened and stared at the wall he was facing.

As he lay in his brother's arms, Sam did not feel peace or serenity, instead all he could feel and hear were the hurtful words spoken by this same brother who was now holding him so tenderly.

_Well fine then, be all bitchy, but Dad is right, this hunt is way more important, people's lives are way more important than some stupid school play that doesn't mean jack, You're just being a selfish little freak!_

The anger in Sam wanted nothing more than to shove Dean off of his bed and tell him to go sleep in his own.

But he relented, knowing that this was something that Dean needed.

So Sam stayed still, feigning the feel of a sleeping body by staying realized and breath evenly.

But as he lay there in Dean's arms, staring at nothing with hollow eyes, Sam felt his cracked and dented heart finally do the one thing he had been fighting with everything he had to prevent it from doing.

It shattered.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural and I am not making any profits off of this story. It all belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke so, please don't sue and please don't be offended by the language or situations the characters find themselves in.

Chapter 9

Dean Winchester tapped his fingers against the steering wheel of the Impala, keeping in tune with the beat of the Metallica song playing at low volume on the radio as he waited for a certain younger sibling to walk out the doors of the school across the street amidst a flood of other kids once the bell rang.

It'd been three weeks since the nearly fatal hunt for the Black Dog, three weeks since he had witnessed with his own eyes how Sam had single handedly taken out a ferocious being that he and Dad combined had not been able to stop.

Dean felt an involuntary chill run up his spine as he remembered what he and his father had beheld that night.

During these last few days, Sam seemed normal enough if maybe a little quiet and reserved but, both Dean and John wrote it off as just Sam's way of coping with what had nearly happened to them all and what had actually happened.

And it couldn't have been too bad, Sam hadn't had a single nightmare since the ordeal so he must have been doing okay.

Sam would snap out of it and be back to his old bright, geeky, stubborn, and happy little self in no time.

However, Dean and John Winchester were oblivious to a certain detail nobody actually told them to their faces.

Nobody had as of yet informed the older Winchesters that they were by far most likely two of the biggest idiots on the face of the Earth.

Really.

The reality was that their youngest was the farthest thing from alright. Even after a whole month.

From where he sat it his last class of the day, Sam Winchester felt numb and dead inside.

What Dean and John thought was sullenness was muted despair in actuality.

The heart that had shattered within his chest the same night he had passed his test against the Black Dog was still not whole.

Yes, it had pulled together most of it's many broken pieces and had put itself back together as best as it could. Despite it's valiant efforts, the best it could comprise from the many pieces was a jagged edged mass within his chest that felt nothing at all like a human heart should.

Sam scribbled down his homework for this class just as the school bell rang loud and shrill, signaling the end of the school day.

While his fellow classmates all got up from their seats and murmured with enthusiasm among themselves, Sam gathered up his stuff and slowly stood from his desk. He didn't look at anyone else as he got his new winter coat on, he didn't say anything to any of the other kids as he walked with them as they flowed out of the classroom and out into the hall to join an even bigger accumulation of kids coming out of the other classrooms.

Sam walked to the front exit without stopping once.

These last three weeks had been Hell on Earth for him.

When he'd first returned to school after the weekend, he had been shunned immediately by his friends at the drama club for bailing on them at the last minute before the Winter show.

He had learned from Benny Holden in his English class that the show had been a down right disaster because the leading role he had had to give up had gone to his replacement Andy Kidman, who had had no time to prepare and had naturally sucked.

On top of that, one of the stage lights had blown out, sending everyone on stage into a panic.

The Winter show had ended in an uncoordinated and deeply embarrassing mess.

A few days later, the mean kids who had taken up picking on him had swooped down and had had a field day rubbing his let down in his face.

And they had carried on tormenting him for this whole time.

As he walked out into the crisp wintry air, Sam felt the jagged object in his chest that was once his heart turned into a block of black ice as he caught sight of the familiar sleek black car waiting across the street.

Sam didn't want a ride home with Dean, he would rather have walked in the cold than sit beside the older brother who had called him a selfish little freak and not even apologized for it after wards.

Dean had actually forgotten the words he had spoken to his baby brother before everything went to Hell that night.

Guess his little brother's heart hadn't been important enough to Dean for him to remember the jagged crack he had inflicted on it that night with his words and his annoyance, making it all the more easy for it to shatter the way it had done later that night while he had laid oblivious in sleep, holding said little brother in his arms.

For Sam, his anger to wards both his brother and his father had surpassed red hot rage and was now a cold, all consuming fury.

But even with all that inside him, he couldn't bring himself to hate them. The love for these two unworthy fools somehow remained intact, but was buried away deep inside behind thick walls of hurt and ice.

They were _still_ everything to him as apparently he was not much to them, his father especially.

As he reached the Impala, Sam felt deep resentment raise it's ugly head inside him, it's gaze aimed at his seventeen year old brother with spiky hair sitting behind the wheel of the car.

Sam climbed into the car silently and stayed pressed against the car door, as far from his father's perfect first son, his good little soldier.

The son his father wanted.

The son who didn't have to change anything about himself to get his father's approval.

The son who wasn't a " whiny little brat who screws up left and right " like his brother was according to their father.

" Hey Sammy." Said Dean with a smile, perking up at his sibling's presence.

" Hey Dean." Said Sam, not returning Dean's smile, not even sparing his brother the slightest glance.

Not picking up on the fact that his brother didn't want a conversation of any kind with him, Dean spoke again.

" How was school Sammy?" He asked.

He was met with silence for a while before Sam answered.

" Fine. Now can we go home?" Sam relied curtly, annoyance clear in his tone as he stared out the window.

Mildly taken aback by the slight hostility, Dean nodded and turned up the volume on the radio and then carefully pulled away from the sideway.

The drive home was made with no more words spoken between the brothers and once they pulled up in front of the house, Sam all but bolted from the car and up the stairs into the house before Dean could try and talk to him again.

Dean watched his brother disappear into the house and found himself wanting Sam to snap out of this funk and go back to be his full, normal self.

With a small sigh, Dean turned off the Impala's ignition and followed in Sam's wake into the house.

* * *

Later that night, the three Winchesters sat at the table in the kitchen, having dinner that was comprised of Chinese take out and a bucket of KFC chicken. 

John had left his temporary job a few days after the Black Dog and had stayed home to take it easy and let his wounds heal. He'd managed to dodge both infection and rabies. This was most likely thanks to Sam's quick patch up job.

But he hadn't been able to tell his boy because Sam avoided him every chance he got, only speaking to him when it was unavoidable.

John hoped that Sam would soon be getting out of the funk he was under cause he really wanted the bright, wonderfully vibrant, intelligent yet deeply stubborn youngest son he knew and loved to return.

John discreetly looked up from his own plate to eye his sons.

Dean sat adjacent to him, fully engrossed in devouring his meal. John smiled inwardly, his oldest boy was a bottomless pit when it came to food.

However, where John smiled internally at his oldest's ravenous enthusiasm as he shoveled his dinner into his mouth, but the smile turned into a frown when his eyes fell on his youngest.

Sam sat across from him, unlike his brother the thirteen year old was picking at his dinner with his fork and nibbling at his food half heartedly and with his eyes downcast.

John gave an inaudible sigh before he cleared his throat to get his sons's attention. Dean looked up instantly but Sam's eyes remained gazing down at his dinner plate.

John ignored his youngest son's snub and spoke.

" Listen up boys, I found another job up in Minnesota so we're heading out at the end of the week."

_" Oh boy, Sammy's probably gonna blow his top and then he and dad are gonna be at each other's throats."_ Thought Dean as he and his father's eyes instantly zeroed in on their youngest one.

John and Dean were both expecting vehement protest from their youngest, an all out Battle Royale.

So it was a bit of a shock when all they received was dead silence.

Sam felt his father and his brother's expectant gazes on him and finally looked up from his plate.

He stared back at them blankly and after a beat, he spoke.

" What?" Was asked flatly.

" Dad just said that we're moving Sammy, aren't you gonna start yelling and screaming at Dad?" Asked Dean, utterly perplexed as he stared at Sam.

" No." Was all Sam said with a small shake of his head.

Dean huffed a disbelieving laugh before he spoke.

" Dude, are you alright? You sure you're not comin' down with something are you?" He asked as he got up and walked over to Sam, reaching out to feel his little brother's forehead.

But, just as Dean's hand was about to make contact with skin...

Sam violently flinched away from him and sent him a glare filled with dark venom that seemed to say _" Don't you dare touch me Dean." _

_" Touchy." _Said Dean as he let his hand fall away and returned to his seat.

He actually felt a little hurt by his brother's rejection.

But in true Dean Winchester fashion, he didn't let it show and shrugged it off as Sam just being bitchy and moody.

Unbeknounced to Dean, after the night he had climbed into Sam's bed and held him, his little brother didn't want any kind of physical contact with him or their father.

" I'm fine." Answered Sam finally.

" What's goin' on with you, I thought you liked it here, a lot?" Asked John.

_" Since when does it matter to you whether I like it somewhere and want to stay or not?"_ Thought Sam bitterly before he answered his father.

" We came here to hunt down that Black Dog. Black Dog's dead. Now we're moving on. Besides, I don't like it here anymore." Said Sam quietly.

" Why? What do you mean you don't like it here anymore?" Asked John as both he and Dean stared at Sam. 

" I just don't like it here, especially after what happened in the woods..." Sam trailed off, not wanting to say anything further cause then an entire landslide of words would be pouring out of his mouth.

If he'd said all that was really on his mind, his family would most likely be furious and annoyed at him. They wouldn't have cared about his pain. His father would've just compared him to Dean and once again basically told him that he wasn't good enough. Dean would've probably told him how selfish he was and blame him for once again being caught in the middle of an argument.

Well there wasn't gonna be an argument.

Not tonight.

Not ever.

Sam would see to that.

Besides, it wasn't like his opinion would be taken into consideration. In addition, he really didn't want to speak to his father or his brother not now and not in the near future.

" Alright, okay." Said John with a lingering look at his youngest before he turned back to his plate.

Dean too stared at his brother for a moment before he turned back to his own plate, though not with as much enthusiasm as earlier.

The two older Winchester were both feeling really confused by their youngest one's behavior.

Dean and John had both been expecting an explosive arguments with yelling and screaming and instead, there hadn't even been a single raised voice.

Everything was just quiet.

And it was by far the strangest thing Dean or John ever encountered, even in the crazy world their family lived in.

* * *

One week later... 

Dean and Sam followed John out of the house for the final time, with everything they owned packed up in the large duffel bags they were carrying with them.

They followed their father to the Impala and loaded their bags and gear into the trunk.

" Do you boys have all your stuff?" Asked John.

" Yes sir." Chimed Dean and Sam, the older with excitement and the youngest with no emotion at all.

" Good, then let's hit the road." Said John, eager to get out of town and to the job.

The three Winchesters climbed into the Impala with John in the driver's seat, Dean riding shotgun, and Sam silent in the back seat.

The Impala growled to life with a turn of the key.

Without looking back, the Winchesters drove out of town with Minnesota on the horizon.


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural and I am not making any profits off of this story. It all belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke so, please don't sue and please don't be offended by the language or situations the characters find themselves in.

Chapter 10

Pastor Jim Murphy was just finishing up penning one of his new sermons for the coming Sunday service when the low, rumbling sound of a car engine caught his ear.

The Pastor immediately recognized the exact model of the car the engine sound belonged to.

Dropping the pen in his hand and getting up from his seat at his desk, Pastor Jim quickly made his way to the front door.

Pastor Jim threw the door open and stepped out onto the front porch in time to see a sleek black, 1967 Chevy Impala pulling up from the dusty road and slowly rumbling to a stop in front of his house.

The Winchesters.

_" Well, this is a surprise."_ Thought Pastor Jim and indeed, this visit had come completely out of the blue. No phone call in advance, no there had been nothing except the signature Winchester vehicle pulling up a mere few seconds ago.

With mild confusion on his mind, Pastor Jim walked down the steps of the porch to greet his unexpected guests.

The Impala became inanimate with the turn of a key and then, John Winchester stiffly climbed out of the driver's seat with his two sons following in his wake.

As he came to stand before his guests, Pastor Jim could see that John and Dean were both looking a little worse for ware but, the Pastor was slightly taken aback when his gaze fell on the youngest of the three.

Where as his father and brother looked a little tired, Sam Winchester was almost ghostly in complexion. He stood tall and with his eyes glued to the ground it seemed, his face a neutral mask.

A far cry from the smiling, bright eyed, vibrant young man Pastor Jim had last seen several months ago.

With concern swirling with the confusion already there in his mind, Pastor Jim turned to John and held out a hand as he spoke.

" Well now, this is an unexpected visit, what brings you all here John?" He asked.

" Me and the boys are headed for a hunt not too far from here and at the last minute, I figured we'd stop by for a bit and see you." Said John simply as he glanced at his boys, his gaze lingering a moment on a silent Sam before returning to meet the Pastor's imploring eyes.

" And you didn't think it important to call ahead and give me some hint of a warning?" Asked Pastor Jim with a quirk of an eyebrow as he watched John give him a slightly sheepish look.

But deep down, Jim could sense that there was something else going on, that something else had happened. That this was more than just an unexpected drop in by the Winchesters.

Eager to know what was going on behind the facade of a friendly visit, Pastor Jim quickly turned to the two younger Winchesters.

" Hey Dean, how are you boy?" Asked Jim with a warm smile as he playfully ruffled the oldest Winchester boy's short hair.

" I'm good Pastor Jim, could use some lunch though." Smiled Dean, lightly swatting at the hand messing up his hair.

" That doesn't surprise me in the least. Don't worry, you'll get a chance to fill that black hole you call a stomach Dean." Muttered Jim with a small grin before he turned to the youngest of his three guests.

" How are you doing Sam?" Asked Jim.

" I'm fine." Came the dull, lifeless answer that was nothing like the answer Jim was accustomed to from the boy standing before him.

In all the time the Pastor had known the Winchester, Sam was always the most exuberant and happy. Always bouncing with innocent light.

The Sam standing before him now was a full 180 from that, pale and withdrawn with his eyes down cast, everything about him covered in dullness and what looked suspiciously like veiled despair.

The Pastor was just about to voice his concern over the very lack luster answer from Sam when the thirteen year old silently stepped forward and wrapped his arms around the older man, hugging the Pastor tightly around the middle.

" I'm just really tired Pastor Jim, but it's really good to see you." Said Sam hollowly against the Pastor's chest.

Pastor Jim thought confused, smiled at the gesture of affection he was receiving and instinctively wrapped his arms around Sam, one of his hands gently cupping the back of the boy's head, gently stroking the long, chocolate brown locks.

Pastor Jim blinked and then looked up to eye the two older Winchesters, subtle questions written across his face.

But as he gazed upon John and Dean, his questions multiplied.

At first, John and Dean's faces were slack with astonishment, clearly they had been taken off guard by their youngest one's show of affection.

But their faces tightened within seconds, father and oldest son's mouths identical unhappily thin, horizontal lines.

Jim watched as John and Dean's eyes hardened and narrowed just slightly, the surprise leaving their depths and filling with a myriad of emotions.

From where he stood, Pastor Jim stared back at these two pairs of eyes and found himself feeling very troubled as he could just barely make out one of the emotions within the myriad swirling around in the eyes of John and Dean.

_Jealousy._

In that moment, Pastor Jim was now sure that something was indeed very wrong. But he was broken from his troubled thoughts when Sam finally pulled away from the embrace they had been sharing. Sam looked at Pastor Jim with blank eyes before he turned away and went back to standing beside Dean, ignoring the looks said brother and John gave him.

After a beat and without his eyes leaving his youngest, John spoke.

" Boys, get your stuff from the trunk and head inside." He ordered quietly.

" Yes Sir." Came the two expected synchronized responses, though Dean's voice was it's normal if a little quieter, Sam's voice remained dull and unfeeling.

Sam was the first to reach the trunk, easily opening it. He swiftly pulled up his duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder in one graceful movement.

Then, he was up the front steps and vanishing into Pastor Jim's house not so much as pausing a moment for Dean, who hadn't even gotten to the Impala's trunk to get his own duffel.

Dean let a small sigh escape his as he stared at the open front door his little brother had disappeared through without so much as a glance his way.

Pastor Jim found his heart clenching a little as he eyed the almost longing and slightly hurt look that passed across Dean's face before the seventeen year old schooled his features and turned his attention back to carrying out his father's earlier orders.

Jim turned his gaze to John and felt his unease grow when he saw that the oldest Winchester also had a sad look on his face, quiet similar to that of the oldest son he was eying.

Then, the Pastor turned his gaze back to stare at Dean, he and John watching as the older Winchester brother disappeared into the house, a picture of quiet dejection and loneliness.

Once he was sure that Dean was inside his house and well past hearing range, Pastor Jim turned to John and spoke.

" Alright John Winchester, even a blind man could see that something's just not right. What's going on?" Jim asked urgently.

John nodded his head before he met his friends gaze and spoke.

" Jim, I think we should get inside first, it's a long story, and even I don't really know what's really goin' on." Sighed John deeply.

Jim nodded and waited for John to retrieve his duffel bag from the Impala's trunk before the two adults headed inside.

However, the very second the two men had stepped over the threshold and into the foyer, Dean's voice rang out from upstairs, loud and laced with exasperation.

" SAM GET BACK HERE!!!"

A second later, Sam Winchester came barreling down the stairs as fast as his legs could carry him. He hurtled past his father and Pastor Jim, uttering a curt " I'll be outside." before he disappeared out the front door and into the early afternoon sun.

John and Pastor Jim only had a moment to stare in Sam's wake before the sound of feet once again pounding down the stairs made them turn back around and behold a stone faced and determined Dean Winchester thundering down the stairs in his younger brother's wake, in obvious pursuit.

He too was about to blow right past his father and the Pastor when John deftly hooked two fingers into the back of his son's shirt collar, effectively bringing the teenager to a complete halt.

" Hold up Dean, let your brother go. I think he made it quiet clear that he wants to be left alone." Sighed John.

For a moment, Dean looked defiantly at his father with every intention of ignoring John's words and continuing his pursuit. But then with a small sigh, he deflated and let John lightly pull him away from the front door by his collar. The two Winchesters followed Pastor Jim into his living room. There, the Pastor took a seat on one of his cushioned chairs while John and Dean parked themselves side by side on the large, lump sofa.

The unofficial Family Counselor and two of his three patients.

" Alright John, enough with the stalling. Out with it, what's going on with Sam? I'd have to be an idiot to not see that that boy just isn't himself! " Said Pastor Jim.

He was met with silence but then with a steadying breath, John spoke.

" Pastor Jim, me and Dean are just as baffled by this as you are. I don't know what's gotten into my boy. Sam's been acting off for weeks now, he hardly speaks and he won't let me or Dean anywhere near him. Hell today was the most we'd heard him say. It's like there's a wall between us and him and I just can't figure out why the hell it's there. " Sighed John feeling absolutely helpless and frustrated.

" So you all came here to see if I could be of help." Stated Pastor Jim as he sent them a knowing look.

" Yeah, just don't tell Sammy that." Said Dean with a weak smirk on his lips and a silent plea in his eyes while John bowed his head and nodded.

With a small nod, Jim rose to his feet and sighed.

" Alright, I'll see if I can get to the bottom of this. But I'm gonna need some more info out of the both of you. Can you think of anything that happened recently that could've caused Sam to act this way?" Asked Pastor Jim.

At this, Dean and John felt their minds falter for a moment as they both remembered a not so distant incident that had occurred in the woods of Wisconsin.

The two older Winchesters shared a quick look that Pastor Jim would have missed entirely had he blinked. It was John who broke the silence.

" Well, there was the hunt we finished up in Wisconsin about a month ago. It was a black Dog, damn thing nearly took us out but, we managed to nail it in the end." Said John, feeling like crap for not telling Pastor Jim the specifics of what had happened, but in the look he had shared with Dean, they'd both agreed not to go into the full details of what they had seen that blood drenched night and what Sam himself had recounted about what had happened after they'd both been knocked out cold.

" Maybe that's what's been buggin' Sammy, that hunt was a pretty scary one and he hasn't really talked about it. The geek always has to talk about stuff." Said Dean.

Both John and Pastor Jim nodded.

" Alright, now that I have some concrete facts, I best try and get to the bottom of this." Said Pastor Jim with a small huff as he rose from his seat and swiftly walked across the room and ducked into the kitchen.

Dean and John both stared in the Pastor's wake before quickly scrambling after the man into the kitchen.

Once they were in the kitchen, the two older Winchesters stood slightly perplexed as they watched the Pastor move back and forth around his kitchen accumulating several items with his motions.

Two slices of wheat bread.

A container of Bologna.

Two jars, one was mayo the other mustard.

A slice of white American cheese and a slice of crunchy lettuce.

Dean was about to voice the question of why Pastor Jim was in the midst of constructing a sandwich when the Pastor cut him off before he could even open his mouth to speak.

" It just so happens to be lunch time, figure I'd loosen the boy up with an offering before I try and wheedle some answers out of him." Said Pastor Jim simply as he piled a liberal amount of bologna over the slice of lettuce before he set about spread mayo and mustard. After that he cover it all with the slice of cheese.

_" Good idea."_ Thought John as he nodded in agreement.

Jim added the final accents to the sandwich he finished it off by pressing the other slice of bread over the whole thing.

He then picked up the plated it was on and looked at Dean and John.

" Now I have a pretty good idea of where to find our young Samuel. I know that the both of you aren't gonna stay here in the house and sit idle so I suggest you stay quiet and out of sight. Use whatever stealth you can muster." Said Pastor Jim with a hint of sternness as he eyed the older two of his three guests.

John and Dean both blinked at the Pastor owlishly for a few moments before they both saw the practicality of the older man's words.

The two older Winchesters nodded, they would stay out of sight and stay quiet cause if Sam was aware of their presence then he'd close himself off and they would have gotten nothing out of him.

" Glad we are all in agreement." Said Pastor Jim before he walked passed John and Dean with the plate and sandwich in held firmly in his hands. The two older Winchesters followed in the Pastor's wake as they all headed for the front door.

Dean strode ahead to open the door for Pastor Jim and the three of them filed out of the house with Pastor Jim in the lead.

As Dean and John walked behind Pastor Jim, they instantly figured out where he was leading them.

The Chapel.

Of course, that would've been one of the places their Sam would go to whenever they visited here.

Sam was in sanctuary, and maybe in sanctuary his family could get some much needed answers.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural and I am not making any profits off of this story. It all belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke so, please don't sue and please don't be offended by the language or situations the characters find themselves in.

Chapter 11

" Alright you two, come inside a few steps behind me, stay out of sight and don't make a sound." Said Pastor Jim in a hushed voice as he stood at the doors of the Chapel.

Both John and Dean nodded wordlessly with the slight feeling like they were on a hunt. In a manner they sort of were, and their quarry was inside the Chapel they were currently standing at the threshold of.

Pastor Jim nodded before turning and pushing one of the doors open with one hand, the other balancing the plate that held a very stuffed bologna sandwich with a healthy helping of all the necessary ingredients.

The Pastor's weapon of choice and Sam Winchester's offered lunch.

Pastor Jim stepped into the Chapel and stood at the very tip of the aisle flanked by long wooden pews on either side. The Pastor looked ahead and immediately spotted a shaggy mop of chocolate brown hair, the thirteen year old it belonged to sitting at the very first pew at the way at the front of the place of worship.

Feeling eager to get to the bottom of the mystery that had basically pulled up into his driveway this early afternoon, Pastor Jim took a step forward and began to quietly walk down the aisle of his Chapel towards the front pew and it's lone occupant.

As he walked, Pastor Jim's sharp ear caught the nearly inaudible sound of feet carefully shuffling behind him into the Chapel.

John and Dean Winchester in stealth mode.

_" Don't blow it you two."_ Thought Pastor Jim as he continued walking down the aisle to the front pews.

From where he sat, Sam sat perfectly still and with his eyes fixed on the altar with a large banner of a cross draped over it with four large brass candle stands at each of it's corners, each with five identical white candles in the holders forming four diagonals pointing downward to wards the altar.

Sunlight was streaming in through the stained-glass windows, a color-tinted light bathing everything it touched.

Everything except a the thirteen year old sitting in the pew.

The light was blanketing Sam, but he felt none of the warm comfort it was offering.

His skin felt nothing, and beneath the surface was eternal ice.

Emptiness coursed through his veins as the chunky mass that had once been a normal loving heart, grow numb within his chest, the persistent ache retreating for the time being.

This Chapel used to be a place he loved coming to, he always felt at peace and protected in this place of worship.

But now this place that had once held such warmth seemed alien to him.

He didn't feel peace here. He didn't feel protected here.

Not anymore.

All he felt was a deep, all consuming despair and a wish to simple turn into dust and let the wind scatter him to the four corners of the Earth.

Sam was broken from his depressed thoughts when he caught movement a little ways under his chin. The boy looked down to see a light blue plate with liberally stuffed bologna sandwich on being held out for him to take.

Sam looked up with his moss green eyes and found the weathered but smiling blue ones of Pastor Jim Murphy staring back at him.

" Care for some lunch?" Asked Pastor Jim, breaking the silence that encompassed the Chapel.

Sam blinked at the Pastor before shifting his eyes to the offered bologna sandwich hovering under his chin.

Wordless, the boy reached up and took the plate Pastor Jim was holding into his hands.

" Thank you." Said Sam softly with his eyes downcast.

This detail did not go unnoticed by the Pastor as the man quietly took a tiny step closer to the thirteen year old.

The youngest Winchester silently scooted over just a little down the pew to give the Pastor room to sit.

Taking this as a good sign, the Pastor sank down beside the boy. The two sat in silence as Pastor Jim watched Sam take a few half-hearted bits at the bologna sandwich.

" Did I put enough mustard on that?" Asked the Pastor quietly.

" Yeah it's good, thanks." Said Sam after he'd swallowed a mouthful, still not meeting the Pastor's imploring gaze.

And so the two sat for a while, Pastor Jim deciding it best to let Sam finish his lunch before he tried to pry some answers out of the boy.

Someways near the back of the Chapel, John and Dean Winchester were doing their absolute best to stay out of sight and be a quiet as was humanly possible as they stealthily inched their way towards the front pews where the Pastor and their youngest were seated.

The two older Winchesters ducked and weaved until they were effectively hidden behind the side of the Confessional booth just a few feet away from the front pews and the two individuals sitting in the very first one.

The impending conversation that would hopefully transpire between these two was one they desperately needed to be in audience of.

Pastor Jim waited until Sam was done with eating before getting the thought to speak in his mind but, Sam Winchester promptly beat him to the punch.

" Did Dean and my Dad ask you to talk to me?" Asked Sam, his voice quiet but loud enough for the Pastor and the two hidden Winchester's to all hear.

" Yeah they did, they're worried about you, they've been worried for a while now. So tell me what's wrong, and don't tell me it's nothing Samuel." Said Pastor Jim gently, using the boy's full name and sending the youngest Winchester a firm but coaxing look.

" I don't wanna talk about it Pastor Jim." Said Sam, his gaze glued to his lap.

" Sam, you can talk to me about anything remember? And this isn't like you, you're supposed to be the bouncing, constant chatterbox who could go on and on for hours on end about everything. What's going on with you Sam, is the hunt you guys finished up in Wisconsin still bothering you?" Asked Pastor Jim, hoping to get something out of the young man.

The Pastor felt like they'd made a small inch of progress when Sam did look up at the mention of the hunt in Wisconsin with a slightly haunted look passing across his eyes before they grew blank again.

" What did Dean and Dad tell you about that hunt?" Asked Sam softly.

" They said that it was a rough one, a black dog nearly killed all of you but that the three of you defeated it in the end." Said Pastor Jim.

An all consuming silence followed after these words left Jim's mouth.

Then, Sam did something that chilled the very blood that coursed through the veins of Pastor Jim, John, and Dean.

He threw his head back and started laughing.

It was a cold, jagged sound and absolutely terrifying sight.

It was a thing that didn't belong here in a place of God.

" Oh that is so rich I tell you Pastor Jim, absolutely fucking rich." Cackled Sam loudly, a slight edge of hysteria to his voice.

Pastor Jim's eye grew wide as he stared at the boy before him, absolutely appalled by what had left Sam's mouth.

Of course things must've been really bad, the youngest Winchester had just cursed while sitting in the very front pew of a Chapel.

" Hee, hee. So they didn't tell you what really happened that night. Fine, I'll tell you what happened Pastor Jim." Giggled Sam before he turned his head to look at the stunned Pastor.

Jim actually felt fear in the pit of his stomach as Sam's eyes met his.

No longer moss-green but two dark, almost black orbs with a raw, dark rage swirling within their depths.

" You see Pastor Jim, _we_ didn't take out that Black Dog._I_ did, all by myself because my father, the _big bad hunter_ and my brother the _Good little __soldier_ got their asses knocked out cold by that thing. It chewed my Dad's leg up almost to ribbons and it sent Dean flying till the ground stopped him. He landed on his head. I was the only one left standing, so I went after that thing." Hissed Sam, his voice no longer giggly and slightly hysterical but cold and eerily calm, which was by far more terrifying to hear.

Pastor Jim was staring at Sam with his mouth hanging open and his eyes wide with disbelief, he just couldn't seem to get anything, mainly his vocal cords to work properly at the moment.

From where they were hidden behind the Confessional, John and Dean were both also gawking at their youngest, wondering if Sam was possessed by something because their was no way that the enraged, cussing in Church and then becoming eerily calm individual sitting beside Pastor Jim was their Sammy. And yet it was. And as they stood their, the memories of that horrible night that they'd tried so hard to forget were slowly beginning to boil back up to the surface.

_" Sweet God, what happened that night?"_ Thought Pastor Jim.

As though he'd read the Pastor's mind, Sam began to recount the nightmarish events of that night.

With the intention of describing everything in full, gory detail.

" After the Black Dog threw Dean, I used my hand gun and I shot the thing. I hit it and it took off deeper into the woods. I dragged Dean over to where Dad was laying. After that I ripped off the sleeves of my shirt to patch up Dad as best I could and then I grabbed Dad's shotgun and Dean's hunting knife and I went after that thing, following it's blood trail." At this point, Sam pause and eyed a stunned Pastor Jim for a moment before he continued with his tale.

" I followed the blood trail, down a path that led to a clearing with a large rock face, it was snowing and I saw that the blood was leading to the rocks so, I headed there. The Black Dog was waiting for me." Sam paused for a breath and found the mass of rock that was his heart crack just a little, but he ignored the pain like he'd been doing for weeks now.

" What happened then Sam?" Asked Pastor Jim quietly, a part of him did want to know, but most of him was in agreement that the truth was necessary, especially since John and Dean had not been forthcoming in that area.

" The Black Dog came out of the shadows it was hiding in, he was mad a Hell and he wanted something to pay, I just happened to be there. It circled, I circled and them I saw that there was a crevice in the rock face and slowly backed into it. It was big enough for me but I could tell that it wasn't big enough for the Dog. When I'd slipped inside it, the Dog jumped ready to make a meal out of me, I had my hand gun with me so I used it again and emptied the rest of the clip into him. I fell backwards shooting and the next thing I know, the Black Dog's stuck between the walls, wedged too tight like a cork. After that I just stared at him, he was bleeding and howling at the top of his lungs, trying to get free." At this pointed, Sam stopped as the memories of his actions that night came roaring back.

But he wasn't moved by them in the least, he felt nothing as he remembered.

" What did you do Sam?" Asked Pastor Jim, his voice nearly and whisper as he waited for an answer with a pounding heart.

" He was howling, it was annoying me, so I shut him up. I shoved my Dad's shotgun down his throat and I pulled the trigger." Said Sam simply in that same terrifyingly calm voice.

Pastor Jim sat in horrified astonishment as he stared wide eyed at his young companion who carried on talking.

" My arms were bare, so blood splattered all over them and Dad's shotgun, it got onto the front of my shirt and a little bit sprinkled the side of my face too. I was alive, but I was stuck inside the crevice because that thing's corpse was blocking the only way out. Then I remembered that I had my brother's hunting knife and I used it. It wasn't hard to do because that thing's head was only hanging on by some meat and skin and, it didn't have much use for a head anymore. After that, I just waited for enough blood to coat the walls on either side of the Dog's body to make it slippery enough and then I kicked and shoved it loose and got out." Said Sam as he eyed the Pastor with an eerie detachment.

" Oh my God... Sam." Breathed Pastor Jim, not really knowing how to react to all that he'd just learned. The older man reached out to place a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder but, Sam was having none of that as he lightly flinched away from the incoming touch and smirked humorlessly.

" You wanna know something funny Pastor Jim? Asked Sam.

" Sure Sam." Said Pastor Jim quietly, waiting for more horror to spill out the youngest Winchester's mouth.

" That night, I was supposed to be in a school play. Dad and Dean were supposed to be in the audience." Said Sam, feeling sadness beginning to mingle with his anger.

" You were, well then why weren't you all there?" Asked Pastor Jim.

" The night before the hunt, I told Dad I didn't wanna go that I had to be in that play, I had a big role in it. Dad said that a school play was meaningless and that I'd just be a public embarrassment prancing around on the stage. He said the hunt was far more important, that peoples lives were at stake. I tried to tell him that it was important and then he asked my why I couldn't be more like _Dean._" Sam gritted out his brother's name through his teeth before he continued.

" I just lost it after that and I screamed out that I was Sam not Dean. And you know what Dad did? My dad screamed back, he said that things would be a hell of a lot better if I was more like Dean and then he called me a Whiny little Brat who screws up left and right." Said Sam, his voice quiver for a moment, loosing the calm tone for just a moment.

Pastor Jim was about to reassure the young man that his father wouldn't mean such a hurtful thing but Sam briskly cut him off.

" And the night of the hunt, me and Dean were walking down the path and Dean told me to quit being all bitchy about not going to the play. I said 'screw you.' and he got mad, he told me that Dad was right, that the hunt was more important, that my play didn't mean jack and then, he called me a Selfish Little Freak."

Now Pastor Jim was stunned.

It was one thing for John to say something out of line to his youngest.

It was a whole different story for Dean to be the one to say something like that to his brother.

" Sam, they didn't mean anything by what they said..." Pastor Jim began but Sam's eyes flashed with hurt and anger. But, he used every ounce of his will to hold his rage back and speak what was on his mind, calmly and clearly.

" All I ever hear out of my Dad's mouth is ' Be more like Dean' or ' Why can't you do it like your brother?'. It's always Dean this Dean that, every single day it's Dean, Dean, Dean." Hissed Sam feeling ugly resentment towards his brother bubbling in the pit of his stomach.

" Oh Sam. Listen, I can tell that you're very angry but you have to know that your dad and your brother didn't mean what they said." Said Jim, trying to get through to the boy.

" That school play, meant something to me, it mattered to _me._ I just wanted us to be together for one God-damn night that didn't involve guns or things trying to kill us. And I wasn't gonna be some public embarrassment on stage, a public embarrassment doesn't get the lead role!" Said Sam loudly with eyes blazing.

From where they stood in their hiding places, both Dean and John felt their hearts freeze cold within their chests as their youngest one's words crashed around their heads. But they stayed hidden as Sam spoke again.

His next words would make them feel like shriveling up and dying.

" And, I didn't just want them to be their for me, I wanted them to be there so I could prove that school bully Jared Rollins wrong when he said that my Family didn't give a damn about me and that I wasn't worth coming to anything for."

John and Dean's eyes grew wide as these words registered.

" Jared and some other guys had been bullying me for months, and he said that I was a freak and that... He said that my mom was probably glad that she was dead, and that she was way better off in Hell than having me for a son." Said Sam softly, his voice quivering for the first time.

" OH MY GOD SAM, THAT'S NOT TRUE!" Yelled Pastor Jim, utterly horrified, more horrified now then when Sam had been recounting his tale of the Black Dog Hunt.

" That the thing Pastor Jim, I don't have her to tell me otherwise. Dean and Dad don't talk about her, who's to say she isn't glad she's dead instead of having me for a son." Sighed Sam.

From where the were hidden, Dean and John gawked in utter disbelief at the back of their youngest one's head.

" It doesn't matter now, Dad and Dean proved him right, nothing that's important to me means anything to them. They didn't even apologize for what they said to me. Dean he... Dean used to make me feel great whenever I felt down about things or had an argument Dad. Now he's just like Dad, someone else who tells me that I'm not good enough. He even thinks that I'm a freak too." Gritted out Sam.

" And then there's Dad, that night that we got home after the hunt, he said he was proud of me. I wish I had been ripped apart by that Black Dog than hear him say that to me. My Dad was proud of me for _butchering_ something and _bathing_ in it's blood. He'd never say he was proud of me for a test I aced or anything else I was good at in school, but that night, I was a soulless monster and he was _proud_ of me for that."

It was here that Sam finally stopped talking and abruptly stood up.

" Pastor Jim, stop trying to tell me that they didn't mean it. They wouldn't have said those things to me if deep down, they didn't feel that way. And it doesn't matter to me anymore. " Said Sam quietly before he slid out of the pew and began walking away with Pastor Jim scrambling to his feet with the intent to go after the boy.

Sam got a few steps in before he came to a halt beside the Confessional Booth.

" You can come out now Dean, Dad." Said Sam with slight annoyance lacing his voice.

John and Dean Winchester obeyed their youngest one and silently slunk out of their hiding place. They had heard every single word that Sam had spoken and were so shell-shocked that they had grown numb and couldn't think of what to do.

Sam eyed his father and his brother with cold, almost black eyes before with a small noise of muted disgust he walked passed them without any further eye contact.

" Sammy wait..." Began John when Sam whirled back around with lightening fast speed.

" For the last fucking time, it's Sam." Said the thirteen year old in that eerily calm voice, once not giving a damn that he was in Church.

" Sam I..." John began to speak when Sam cut him off.

" Save it Dad, for once I don't wanna hear anything outta you. You can go on saving your precious fucking strangers who we will never meet and who will never say thank you to us for saving their sorry ass's. They matter more to you than I ever did, they've always mattered more to you. But get one thing clear, I don't give a damn about these people. I'm only gonna be into hunting for mom, even though she's a stranger too and because I like killing things now. I won't whine, I won't fight you, I won't be a brat."

John felt his entire body go numb at his child's words and he couldn't for the life of him think of what to say to the son he'd hurt so badly.

" Sam wait, I'm sorry." Said Dean his eyes wide and over bright, guilt and anguish radiating off of him as he stepped forward towards his baby brother.

" Shut up Dean, I don't believe you. You're just like Dad now, you forgot everything you said to me that night and pretended everything was fine. You thought that I was being selfish for wanting us to be together as a family. Fine then, I won't be that selfish ever again, I'll won't ever ask you or dad for anything from now on. And I won't argue with Dad anymore so you won't get caught in the middle so be happy. But from this day on, you're not my Jerk anymore, you're just Dean." Said Sam flatly before he turned away and headed for the Chapel doors.

When he reached them, he stopped and then turned to face his family and spoke with a quiet defeat that was far worse than tears or anger would've been.

" You wanna know what's really sad? That even after everything, I don't hate you both, I tried to but it's too hard. You guys are still everything to me. I just wish I was something to the both of you."

And then Sam was walking over the threshold with the Chapel door swing shut behind him, leaving behind his family and Pastor Jim.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural and I am not making any profits off of this story. It all belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke so, please don't sue and please don't be offended by the language or situations the characters find themselves in.

Chapter 12

The afternoon Minnesota sun bathed Sam in it's light as he walked across the yard back to Pastor Jim's house. The Sun's light did nothing to banish the cold desolation that flowed through all the veins of his being. Sam all but ran the remaining distance between himself and the Pastor's house. He flew up the front steps and through the front door. Without pause, the thirteen year old bound up the stairs to the second floor and barreled into the guest room he and Dean always shared whenever they stayed at Pastor Jim's.

But, once he was over the threshold, Sam's thunderous movements slowed to a snail's crawl of a walk. He slowly and calmly made his way over to his designated bed and wearily lowered himself to sit over the edge of the mattress.

As he sat there alone in the silence of Pastor Jim's at the moment completely empty house, his mind immediately went to the highly charged events that had taken place not even ten minutes ago back inside Pastor Jim's Chapel.

He may have finally let the geyser loose and let his father and brother have it with his verbal tyraid but, there was no sense of peace, no weight lifting off of his teenage shoulders.

Instead, it felt like everything that was burdening him had gotten several pounds heavier.

A dull anger filled the youngest Winchester as he sat there all alone with his head bowed low.

Alone in the silence, several questions dogged the young man's mind.

Did his father and brother actually believe that they could just say the word 'sorry' and it would magically fix everything?

Did they honestly think that saying that single word would bring back the person he had been before that hellish night?

Did they think that they could earn his forgiveness that easily after all that they had done?

And the answer to all of these questions came from the blackened, ice-encased rock that was Sam Winchester's heart.

**No. **

**_HELL_ No.**

Had it been the old Sam Winchester in this situation, the simple word 'sorry' would probably have led to the path of forgiveness for whoever wronged him.

But, everything was changed now.

There was no forgiveness to be found within Sam Winchester now.

There was boiling anger, a dark shadow over his soul, and a deep sadness.

All of which were directed at those who had shattered him, those who were responsible for turning his heart into the _inhuman thing_ now residing within his chest.

As he sat there on his bed in the solitude of an empty house, Sam felt his angered and wounded soul roar and wail in agony and rage.

He also felt his chest burn with the fires of anguish.

It would be so much easier if he could just hate them.

But like he had said back in the chapel, it was too hard, somehow it was still the most _impossible_ action for him to do.

He couldn't bring himself to do it.

Dean was his _brother._

John was his_ father._

They were his _family. _

Somehow, within the blackened mass of ice that was now his heart, the love he had for his father and brother had remained intact.

But it lay chained and buried deep under the darkness of rage.

Sam Winchester sat alone in the silence very hurt, very angry, contemplating what the hell he was gonna do now, and finally realizing and lamenting with stark clarity that he was never going to be the same...

Ever again.

_Meanwhile, back across from the house inside Pastor Jim Murphy's chapel..._

Dean and John Winchester stood side by side in a shell-shocked stupor.

The air around them still hummed with the pain of their youngest one's broken heart.

The echoes of Sam words still rang within their ears, their truth and meaning resonating like bolts of thunder through out their minds.

John felt like his heart was being ripped apart by the bare hands of God himself as he recalled the worst of the words that had been thrown like daggers his way by his own child, his youngest son.

The son he had wronged so badly.

_That night, I was supposed to be in a school play. Dad and Dean were supposed to be in the audience._

_Dad said that a school play was meaningless and that I'd just be a public embarrassment prancing around on the stage._

_My dad screamed back, he said that things would be a hell of a lot better if I was more like Dean and then he called me a Whiny little Brat who screws up left and right._

_All I ever hear out of my Dad's mouth is ' Be more like Dean' or ' Why can't you do it like your brother?'. It's always Dean this Dean that, every single day it's Dean, Dean, Dean!!_

_I just wanted us to be together for one God-damn night that didn't involve guns or things trying to kill us._

_I wasn't gonna be some public embarrassment on stage, a public embarrassment doesn't get the lead role!_

_He (Jared) said that my mom was probably glad that she was dead, and that she was way better off in Hell than having me for a son._

_don't have her here to tell me otherwise. Dean and Dad don't talk about her, who's to say she isn't glad she's dead instead of having me for a son._

_doesn't matter now, Dad and Dean proved him right, nothing that's important to me means anything to them_

_didn't even apologize for what they said to me_

_he said he was proud of me_

_wish I had been ripped apart by that Black Dog than hear him say that to me_

_proud of me for butchering something and bathing in it's blood_

_I was a soulless monster and he was proud of me for that_

_Save it Dad, for once I don't wanna hear anything outta you_

_go on saving your precious fucking strangers who we will never meet and who will never say thank you to us for saving their sorry ass'_

_They matter more to you than I ever did, they've always mattered more to you_

_I don't give a damn about these people_

_I'm only gonna be into hunting for mom, even though she's a stranger too and because I like killing things now._

_I won't whine_

_I won't fight you_

_**I won't be a brat... I won't whine... I won't fight you... I won't be a brat... I won't whine... I won't fight you... **_

Over and over again these words screeched against John's eardrums as all consuming guilt and anguish crashed down on him.

From where he stood, Dean was numb and no better than his father as he too was mercilessly assaulted by the echoes of the little brother he had hurt so badly.

_he told me that Dad was right, that the hunt was more important, that my play didn't mean jack and then, he called me a Selfish Little Freak._

_Jared and some other guys had been bullying me for months._

_he said that I was a freak and that... He said that my mom was probably glad that she was dead, and that she was way better off in Hell than having me for a son._

_It doesn't matter now, Dad and Dean proved him right_

_They didn't even apologize for what they said to me._

_Dean he... Dean used to make me feel great whenever I felt down about things or had an argument Dad_

_Now he's just like Dad, someone else who tells me that I'm not good enough._

_He even thinks that I'm a freak too._

_Pastor Jim, stop trying to tell me that they didn't mean it._

_They wouldn't have said those things to me if deep down, they didn't feel that way_

_doesn't matter to me anymore._

_Shut up Dean, I don't believe you_

_You're just like Dad now_

_you forgot everything you said to me that night _

_You thought that I was being selfish for wanting us to be together as a family_

_I won't be that selfish ever again_

_I won't ever ask you or dad for anything from now on_

_I won't argue with Dad anymore so you won't get caught in the middle so be happy_

_But from this day on, you're not my Jerk anymore, you're just Dean_

_**You're not my Jerk anymore... Not my jerk anymore... Not my jerk anymore... Not my jerk anymore...**_

These last words blared at full volume in Dean's vapor locked mind in a chaotic crescendo.

His brother had all but screamed these words at him.

Dean felt his heart lurch painfully as his mind finally processed the meaning of Sammy's words.

When the ability to breathe finally returned to him somewhat, the first lung full of air was utilized to do the first thing that came to his mind.

**" SAMMY!"** Came an anguished wail before Dean moved to run after his baby brother as fast as he could.

The wail snapped John out of his trance as well and he too began to follow.

Between the two of them they only got a few steps before out of no where, Pastor Jim Murphy materialized before them out of nowhere and barred their way through the chapel doors.

Now normally, Dean and John would have simply plowed right through the man but, the look that Pastor Jim was giving them both had them both coming to a dead-halt.

In all the years they had known him, never before had John and Dean Winchester seen such cold fury written across the face of Pastor James Murphy.

" The both of you have got something else coming to you if you think I'm letting you anywhere near that child, especially right after everything we all just heard and everything you have done to him, Oh my God what you have both done to him." Said Pastor Jim, his voice a seething growl as he all out glared at John and Dean Winchester.

The two responsible for the state Sam Winchester was now in.

" Now see here Jim, Sam is my son and I-" John began with urgency that came out sounding more like stubborn defiance, but these words served only to intensify the fury written across Pastor Jim's face. John and Dean could literally see the way the Pastor's face contorted in rage as he cut John off with a booming roar.

**" AND YOU WERE A HEARTLESS BASTARD TO THAT BOY AND TOGETHER WITH THAT EQUALLY HEARTLESS CARBON COPY OF YOURSELF STANDING BESIDE YOU, WHERE YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE THERE FOR HIM AND GIVING HIM THE LOVE AND SUPPORT HE ALWAYS DESERVED LIKE YOU SHOULD HAVE, INSTEAD YOU BOTH DESTROYED HIM!"**

Pastor Jim's words echoed through the Chapel and may very well have rattled the very foundations of the place, such was the volume of Jim Murphy's voice.

It effectively silenced John Winchester and had both him and Dean more or less bolted to the floor.

To be quiet honest, both John and Dean found themselves actually feeling afraid because this was a rage fueled by disbelief and disgust, all directed at them.

Shame and guilt were fast crashing down on the two older Winchesters with the force of multiple tsunamis.

Then, Pastor Jim began to speak again, his voice no longer booming, but hard and quiet, almost deadly.

" The both of you are staying right here in this Chapel for the time being, you are not to set foot in my house and you are not going _anywhere_ near Sam, you've caused enough damage as it is. That boy made it quiet clear that he's had just about as much as he can take from the **both **of you. And quiet frankly my own eyes cannot bare the mere sight of the you both and it is taking all the strength that I got in me not to carry out what I would really like to do to you both for what you have done. But, there has been enough blasphemy here today on this holy ground from a _child's_ mouth no less and I will not contribute anything further but rest assured that later I _will _be telling you both what's on my mind."

Then shooting one final glare full of fury and fiery disgust, Pastor Jim whirled around, turning his back on the two pitiful excuses for a father and an older brother and stomped away through, slamming the door shut behind him with a resounding crash that actually cracked a corner of the stained glass panel the door held near it's top.

But where the glass merely cracked, the two men standing there transfixed found themselves being the ones who were shattering completely.

And in the silence that followed after the echoes of fury, they knew that they both deserved to feel this devastation too, for all the sins that they had committed against their own flesh and blood.

* * *


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural and I am not making any profits off of this story. It all belongs to the CW and Eric Kripke so, please don't sue and please don't be offended by the language or situations the characters find themselves in.

Chapter 13

Pastor Jim found himself all but running across his property from his chapel to his house with only one thought, one person paramount in his mind.

Sam Winchester.

Pastor Jim picked up the pace when he reached his house and all but dove through the front door.

Once he'd all but crashed though the door, the priest made a scrambling B-line for the staircase that led to the second floor of his house.

He made his way up in record time, frantic with worry and desperate to find the thirteen year old boy.

As he made his way to the guest room where both Dean and Sam always stayed, Pastor Jim felt terrified that he'd find only a room filled only with Dean's belongings.

And no Sam.

Pastor Jim was terrified that in the short amount of time that had passed by the youngest Winchester had run off to God only knows where.

God knows the boy was a Winchester after all.

He would have been fully capable of pulling of a Houdini Act like that one.

The Pastor could fully understand what with everything that had happened, that leaving would probably not be an unattractive an idea to the quietly furious young man.

He just hoped that Sam hadn't thought of it and carried it out.

When he reached the threshold to the guest room, Pastor Jim nearly collapsed out of relief when his eyes fell on the thin, slightly haunched over figure with a mop of brown hair sitting over the edge of the bed nearest the window with his back to the door.

The Pastor opened his mouth to speak out the youngest Winchester's name but it was like his voice had simply ceased to work when he tried to use it.

So instead the Priest simply stepped over the threshold into the room and silently made his way towards the young man.

Sam did not turned around at the slow almost hesitant approach of the Winchester family's long time family friend.

Pastor Jim swallowed thickly in an effort to keep the lump threatening to lodge in his throat at bay as he finally reached the queen sized mattress and stood at it's foot.

Using every ounce of will he had in him to get his own raging emotions under some semblance of control before he stepped around the corner of the bed a slowly sank down onto the mattress.

Sitting over the edge of the bed like Sam was.

Pastor and boy sat side by side with mere inches separating them.

They may as well have been sitting on the North and South poles of the earth itself.

Silence.

Thick like a wool blanket and tough as a painter's canvas reigned over the both of them.

It was Sam who finally broke the silent impasse.

" Where's Dean and my Dad?" He asked with his voice devoid of all emotion and his eyes still staring straight ahead.

Flat and hollow.

No longer filled with rage like it had been back at Pastor Jim's chapel just minutes ago.

" They're back in the chapel. I told them not to set foot in my house. Like I would let them after... After everything they did." Replied Pastor Jim quietly while mirroring Sam in staring straight ahead.

Sam gave a very small almost imperceptive nod of his head whilst his hollow eyes never broke their unseeing gaze out the window.

Not really sure as to what he should do, Pastor Jim decided to just go with what his instinct was telling him to do.

Slowly and carefully, the Pastor reached out a hesitant hand towards the youngest Winchester.

Sam gave no reaction as he felt Pastor Jim's arm wrap around his shoulders and lightly pull him sideways til he pressed side to side to the Pastor.

" I am so sorry Sam. Oh God I'm so sorry." Whispered Pastor Jim as he held the boy close.

That finally got Sam to turn his gaze away from the window.

" Why are you saying that Pastor Jim. You didn't do anything. It's not you who should be saying that." Said Sam softly.

" I know Sam, I know it's not supposed to be me saying it. But I said it, and I meant it. I'm sorry, I just am Sammy." Whispered the Pastor as a single tear escaped the priest's eyes.

Sam eyed this and felt a part of his dead heart crack just a little more.

" You're gonna have to cry for us both Pastor Jim, after everything my Dad and my brother called me, I promised myself I'd never cry again. Ever. You can cry til you got nothing left Pastor Jim but me, my tears already dried up. I won't cry anymore, I can't anymore." Said Sam with his voice devoid of... anything.

These were the words that did it.

These were the words that finally shattered Pastor's Jim's heart.

" Oh Sam." Breathed Pastor Jim as he tightened his hold around the thirteen year old and allowed himself to softly weep into the dark chestnut locks at the top of Sam's head.

Staying stone-cold silent now, Sam slowly reached up with his arm and wrapped it around the Pastor's black-shirt covered back in an act of being comforting to his would be comforter.

The light from outside the window formed their silhouette, of two figured huddled together.

The silhouette of the old one mourning in despair for the loss of the young ones innocence.

_A good two and a half hours later... _

Pastor Jim bit back the urge to go break something to pieces with as much violence as he could muster and he stood before the stained-glass doors of his chapel.

Most of him wanted to go back inside and be with the young man he'd left there in the kitchen with a small cup of milk tea but, he knew that he had to deal with his two remaining guests.

The ones truly responsible for the horrifying mess of a situation the Pastor found himself smack in the middle of.

Taking in a deep and very rattling breath through his nostrils, Pastor Jim somehow fought back the chaos of emotions swirling around inside his own heart and reached out to lay his lam against one of the stained-glass doors. With great internal urging he pushed it open.

The Pastor clenched his jaw tight enough to feel his teeth grinding deeply into each other the second his eyes fell on the two haunched over figures residing inside the chapel.

One figure, dark hair in disarray, with his arms crossed tightly over his chest, and with the light glinting off the simple silver wedding ring donning his left hand, was leaning heavily against the back of the first row of pews. The other and younger figure with his skin far too pale and head bowed low was sitting in the same pew's seat that was closest to the red-carpeted aisle.

Pastor Jim stepped over the threshold and into his chapel, the stain-glass panel door swinging shut behind him with a dull thud that echoed deeply through the eerily silent chapel.

Two pairs of heavily red-rimmed and tearful eyes looked up upon his entrance.

The eyes of John and Dean Winchester.

Father and oldest son looked utterly wrecked in their misery and guilt as Dean shot up from his seat and got to his feet, coming to stand beside his father. The two of them stared at .

But Pastor Jim was not moved by this in the least.

He stepped forward and moved with purpose, eyes hard and unforgiving as he made his way across to the two Winchesters.

When he'd come to stand about to steps away from the two older Winchesters, Jim felt the flimsy dam holding back his fury start to crumble under the influx of emotion as he began to speak.

" How dare you call yourselves that child's family." He gritted out as his eye bore holes into both John and Dean.

" Jim please, _please_ just tell me he's still here, that he didn't run away, please just tell me how he is?" Said John desperately with his voice barely above a whisper.

" How hell do you think that boy is John? I was shocked beyond words that he didn't run away, that I found him sitting on his bed in the guest room. He isn't alright John, not by a long shot and it's all because of the both of you." Growled Jim.

" Pastor Jim we know that. I-" Dean began before the Pastor rightly cut him off.

" _You know that Dean? You Know?_ Pity you and your dad here didn't take the time to realize something was wrong after you both said such horrible things to Sam. Pity neither of you failed to notice how horribly that poor child was being bullied in school, especially you dean. Pity you both didn't realize that something was seriously wrong before Sam butchered that Black Dog all by himself. Pity you both couldn't bring yourselves to care about how badly you've hurt that boy until he downright said it to your faces._ You__ know._ Ha! Don't insult my intelligence cause you two idiots don't know a damn thing!" Scoffed Pastor Jim with a withering glare before he continued.

" He won't leave you. You heard him yourselves, somehow after all of this he still loves you both. Even though you both have clearly shown how undeserving you truly are of it." Hissed Pastor Jim as he leveled a deep glare on the elder Winchesters.

Both John and Dean felt their eyes well with tears of utter shame, they couldn't even look the seething pastor in the eye and simply hung their heads where they stood side by side.

It was Dean who finally spoke.

" Please Pastor Jim, we have to see him. We both gotta tell him that he's wrong, he's not just something to us, but everything." Choked out Dean as he felt the tears spill down his cheeks. Beside him John stood with his lip quivering and his own eyes brimming as he nodded at his oldest words and looked at the Pastor with desperate, beseeching eyes as he too spoke.

" Please Jim, he's my boy, my baby. I don't know if he'll ever forgive me but I have to at least ask him to."

Despite his anger at these two, Pastor Jim felt his own heart shatter all that more. This was an entire family on the brink of total destruction, already ripped at the delicate seams that held it together, one more tug and it would be ruined. He couldn't let that happen, these three needed each other. These three needed to be healed, especially the youngest who had been hurt so badly by those closest to him.

With a deep sigh, the Pastor deflated somewhat in his anger but not before letting fly another barb at John and Dean.

" That boy is no longer the innocent child any of us knew, you saw to that with how you treated him. I warned you many times not to be so hard on Sam, I told you time and time again that he wasn't meant to be a carbon copy of yourself or Dean. But did you listen? No. And now look what has become of it. That boy is broken John, _your baby_ is _broken_. He won't even cry about what happened. He's locked himself away because what happened, so that neither of you can hurt him again like you did with your cruel words. And I don't think he will ever be the same Sam we all know and love ever again John. When he butchered that Black Dog, I think he murdered a part of himself, the innocence that should never have been lost."

It was here the Pastor sighed in sadness and shook his head before he leveled a cool look at Dean and John. To his grim satisfaction, his words seemed to have the shame and the heavy guilt already written on both Dean and John's faces increasing ten-fold.

Then with a sad sigh Pastor Jim spoke.

" C'mon, you better try and talk to that boy of your, try and make him see that what he thinks is not true."

Then the Pastor turned smartly on his heels and walked out of the chapel, John and Dean scurrying after him.

The walk across the yard back to Pastor Jim's house was by far the longest and the shortest journey John and Dean had every had to go one. They wanted to reach Sam as fast as they could but at the same time they both felt completely helpless and lost as to what to say or what to do. A simple ' I'm sorry Sammy' wasn't going to cut it.

Then all too soon they were entering Jim Murphy's house.

John and Dean followed Pastor Jim as he led them to the kitchen, they both paused at the threshold however when they caught sight of Sam where he still sat with and empty tea cup loosely held in his hand.

Gone was the fiery rage of before, now there was only despair, the quite hurt that was ten-times worse than all of the anger that Sam had fired at them hours ago.

Sam looked up and gazed at his unsure and tearful looking father and brother with cold, hollow eyes as he spoke.

" What do you want now?" He asked flatly.

" Sam we-" John began when Sam cut them off.

" I don't care much for what you want Dad. Just tell me how long we're gonna be staying here before we get to the next job." Said Sam.

" Sam, we don't have any jobs lined up. We came here just to rest up for a while." Said Dean.

" Well I don't want to rest, ever since that night a month ago all I've been wanting to do get to the next job and slaughter something else. I thought that would make you both happy, that is what you wanted right?" Asked Sam coldly.

If it were possible, John and Dean found themselves die inside just a little more at these words from their youngest.

Not being able to stand it any longer, Dean bound forward and seized Sam by his face and started shouting.

" NO! NO THAT IS NOT WHAT EITHER OF US WANTED SAMMY!!!! OH GOD SAMMY PLEASE, I'M SO SORRY... I'M SO SORRY. YOU AREN'T A SELFISH LITTLE FREAK, YOU'RE NOT... YOU'RE MY BABY BROTHER, YOU'RE _MY _BROTHER. I LOVE YOU, YOU'RE EVERYTHING TO ME AND I'M SO SORRY I MADE YOU FEEL LIKE YOU WEREN'T. I'M SO SORRY!"

Then he quieted down some and continued.

" I just got so tired of being caught in the middle, so sick of having to break up all the fights you an dad kept having that I just couldn't stand it any more. I said those things to you, I wish I could take them back. I don't mean them Sammy, you have to know that I don't think of you like that." Said Dean desperately, unchecked tears cascading down his face.

" What Dean just said goes for me too son, I am so sorry for what I said and what I did to you. I should've just had us all go to that school play, it was important to you, it mattered to you, it should've mattered to me too. That black dog wasn't going anywhere. And Sammy you are not a killer, you just aren't like that. I'm so sorry I keep comparing you to Dean, I should've just seen you for you, not tried to make you into Dean. Please Sammy, I'm so sorry I hurt you Baby Boy. I love you Sammy, you and Dean are everything to me too." Said John tearful and he stood before his youngest son with a pleading look on his guilty face and sobs threatening to consume him.

Even Pastor Jim had tears coursing down his face as he stared at the three Winchesters inside his kitchen.

Sam was silent.

Dead silent.

It was like that for what seemed an eternity.

John and Dean looking desperately at Sam and Sam staring back at them blankly.

Then with a small sigh Sam shook off Dean's hands from his face and wordlessly stood up.

With his eyes now looking not so hollow but not happy at all as he stared at his father and brother Sam spoke.

" I haven't felt like a human being since that night and it's because of the both of you dragging me off to do that job. You both hurt me so bad, and you were both too busy to see that Jared Rollins and the others were already making my life a living Hell, they even insulted our mom for God's sake. I'm not the same anymore and I don't think I ever will be again. I don't know what's gonna happen in the future but for right now, like you guys couldn't give me just one simple thing as just being there for me when I really wanted you guys to, I can't give you want you really want now. I can't give your forgiveness, I can't give you anything." Said Sam softly before he all but ran out of the kitchen before either John, Dean, or Pastor Jim could stop him.

He ran up the stairs and disappeared to the second floor.

Not being able to hold their already threadbare composure for a second longer.

John and Dean shattered to pieces.

Their youngest had shattered them just like they had shattered him.


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own anything Supernatural or whatnot, it is all property of the CW11 network and the Kripke. So don't sue and please don't be offended by the language cause it's gonna be colorful to say the least.

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Chapter 14

Led Zeppelin's _Stairway to Heaven _was emanating from the speakers of the black 1967 Chevy Impala as the muscle car cruised over the smooth highway road. The song may have been a mellow all time classic, but is could do nothing to ease the tension and negative energy that surrounded the Impala's three occupants. From where he sat behind the wheel, John Winchester discreetly took a glance at his two sons. Dean sat beside him in the front passenger seat, the seventeen year old's face was pale a drawn as he stared straight ahead through the windshield at the passing scenery. John looked up at the rear view mirror to see his other son, who sat in the back seat. Sam Winchester sat with his head slightly bowed and his once vibrant eyes downcast. His face was pale and devoid of expression. The thirteen year old's mouth was a thin line between slightly colorless lips. Sam and Dean were the very picture of dejection. John felt his heart crumble a little at seeing his usually vibrant boys so unhappy.

He knew that he was to blame for all of this.

It had been a week since they had left Pastor Jim Murphy's place back in Blue Earth, Minnesota. Now the Winchesters were on their way to a small town in North Dakota to start up yet another temporary life, and take up any hunts that came their way.

Even though there was a hunt looming fast on the horizon, for once it did not dominate John Winchester's mind. What was paramount in his mind was Sam. More specifically, Sam's words from a week ago, back at Pastor Jim's place. His youngest son's words of deep anger and hurt had been like a cold hard slap to John's face. They had served to show the oldest Winchester just how badly he had screwed up in regards to his youngest son's feelings. Not a second went by that John didn't remember the words Sam had said and how the boy had looked as he had said them. The words had been like steel javelins right to the heart. His boy had sure let him have it. Worse still, John knew that Sam had not yet forgiven him. This past week Sam had hardly said a word, save for the occasional "yes sir" or "no sir". The teenager hardly even looked at his father. Obviously, Sam was still hurt and very angry, like he had ever right to be after all the crap his family had dumped on him. As he sat behind the wheel, John couldn't help but wonder if his baby boy would ever forgive him for his transgressions. In his heart, John wasn't sure at all.

If John Winchester was having a hard time with the situation his family was in, Dean was even worse off. To put is simply, Dean Winchester felt like he was in some form of Hell itself. Sam used to come to Dean for anything and everything, now the younger brother had effectively shut his older sibling out after everything that had happened at Pastor Jim's. Despite Dean's numerous attempts, Sam outright refused to talk to him or even meet his eyes. Sure, Sam wouldn't outright leave the room whenever Dean was there, but he didn't really acknowledge his older brother either. Hours would pass by with Dean trying to get even the smallest conversation going and Sam simply sitting there silent as a graveyard. Try as Dean might, Sam just ignored him.

Dean knew that he could blame no one but himself for the way Sam was now treating him. With how badly he had treated Sam first, Dean knew that he was getting a harsh taste of his own medicine. He had ignored Sam first, now Sam was ignoring him. Dean knew that Sam hadn't forgiven him. In fact, Dean was quite sure that Sam hadn't begun to even think about forgiving him or their dad. As he sat riding shotgun, Dean felt the backs of his eyes start to burn with the threat of fresh tears. He stubbornly blinked them back and kept up the facade of composure as his heart crumbled yet again.

He just wanted his little brother, his best friend, to come back to him. But right now, all Dean Winchester had was this cold stranger, who he had helped to create, sitting behind him in the back seat. From where he sat behind the wheel, John Winchester felt the same way, he wanted his vibrant and strong willed son back, not the silently angry and frigid individual he was living with now.

John silently hoped that maybe working together as a unit on this hunt would somehow thaw the ice that was surrounding the three of them. The oldest Winchester allowed himself to hope that a thaw was possible, but in the back of his mind he couldn't help but have his doubts about going into any possible hunts with Sam being so angry and distant towards them. Whether it was a good idea or not, it was too late to back out now because they were more than halfway to the town itself.

With a small sigh, John kept on driving. Beside John, Dean kept taking fleeting glances over his shoulder at his baby brother, and Sam simply ignored his brother and his father. Led Zeppelin kept playing on the radio, but that was just about the only sound that filled the interior of the Impala.

_Two hours later... _

The Impala pulled into the quiet North Dakota town with a low rumble. From where he sat in the back seat, Sam silently looked out the windows and took in the place. It was pretty much a cookie-cutter version of just about every other town they had stayed in. There were a few motels here and there, a grocery store, and gas station, and regular people going about their daily lives. It was the picture of a normal town.

For some reason, this made Sam's heart both lurch painfully, and also fill with a quiet anger. It pained him that he could never be like any of the people who passed by the Impala's windows as the car drove bar. At the same time, it enraged him to no end. These were the kind of strangers his father and brother were willing to lay their lives down to protect. Sam knew that these were the kind of strangers that his father always valued more than him. As he sat there in the back of the Impala, Sam couldn't help but feel a deep revulsion fill him as his mind replayed over and over the many times his father and Dean had always berated him for not wanting to hunt, for not wanting to save people like those who lived in this new town they had arrived in.

Like he had told his father, Sam couldn't bring himself to care even in the least about these people. It may have been irrational, but Sam couldn't help but feel like these unknown people in this North Dakota town, and the many strangers from all of the other towns and cities they had lived in, were the ones who had stolen his father and his brother from him. Like he had told his father in the Church, John could go on saving as many of these strangers as he wanted, but Sam didn't give a damn what so ever. Sam had vowed that the only reason he was even hunting still was for vengeance against the thing that had robbed him of his mother at six months old, and because he did want to keep killing anything and everything that other people only had nightmares about.

As he sat in the back seat of the Impala, Sam Winchester quietly contemplated on what his life was, and what it had now become.

The Winchesters drover through the town, the Impala weaving through the neighborhoods till it finally pulled up in front of a small one-story house that looked as though it had seen better days. A few shingles were missing, and the once white plaster house-face was now a dull gray, with weeds and vines all over the place.

This was the typical dwelling for the Winchesters.

_" Home sweet home."_ Thought Sam bitterly before he quickly exited the Impala.

As he made his way to the trunk, Dean silently joined him and opened the trunk before Sam could reach for it. Sam stayed silent as a grave as Dean reached in and pulled out his younger brother's duffel bag and held it out to the younger boy.

Sam didn't have to meet Dean's eyes to know that there was pain and yearning within those familiar emerald depths.

" Thanks Dean." Said Sam monotonously before he quickly grabbed his duffel bag from his older brother and walked off towards the house.

" No problem little brother." Said Dean softly from somewhere behind Sam as the latter continued to walk away.

Had he looked back, Sam would've seen Dean's face first fill with hopefulness at Sam having spoken to him for the first time since they had left Pastor Jim's, then fill with a bone-deep sadness while he watched Sam walk away without any further words.

Sam walked right past John, not even sparing his father the slightest glance as he made his way up the cracked concrete steps of their new home.

From where he stood by the open driver's side door of the Impala, John felt his eyes burn with an all too familiar sting as he watched his youngest ascend the front steps. For all his knowledge and training, for the life of him, John had no idea where to begin to earn his youngest child's forgiveness, of even if he could after all that had happened.

John looked away from Sam to gaze at Dean, and he felt his heart break all over again as he eyed the quiet misery that painted his oldest boy's face.

By God, what had he done to both of his children?

John took in a deep, steadying breath and battled back the despair that had been threatening to drown him for many days now. Gruffly clearing his throat, John fished out the keys to the house and tossed them to Dean and spoke.

" You and Sam get yourselves settled while I take care of a few things in town." Said John, trying to sound as normal as possible as he gazed at Dean.

Dean nodded mutely and picked up his duffel bag from the trunk before shutting it with a dull thud. With a lingering look at his father, Dean headed off up the front stairs to the front door, where Sam was silently waiting.

With is eyes taking several fleeting glances at his brother, Dean dutifully opened the front door. Sam walked inside the house without looking at Dean the moment the door was open. Dean let out a shaky sigh and followed after Sam in quiet dejection, closing the door behind him.

Once he saw that his boys were inside the house, John quickly climbed back behind the wheel of the Impala and speed off with a low roar. He would go into town to take care of the necessary things like getting his temporary job in order and enrolling the boys in the local school. John wanted nothing more than to find a bar and try to drown his sorrows in some strong whiskey, but he thought better of it. He would just go to some quiet place so he could try to think as to what he should do about the horrible state his family was now in. He knew he had no one to blame but himself.

Inside the slightly run down house, Dean watched sadly as Sam disappeared up the steps to the second floor. Feeling utterly dejected, Dean followed after his little brother up to the second level and down the hall to the room they would be sharing. When he walked into the room, he found Sam had already claimed his queen-sized bed and was already unpacking his things. Feeling completely out of his depth, Dean made his way over to the remaining bed and began to unpack his own bags.

The silence was deeply unnerving to Dean. Where Sammy was usually a constant source of conversation no matter what they were doing, now there was only silence and a coldness Dean could almost literally feel.

The brothers unpacked their belongings in total silence until Dean couldn't take it anymore. Dean stepped around his bed and came to stand behind Sam. The older boy reached out and firmly gripped his younger brother by the shoulder. Dean felt a twinge in his heart when he felt Sam immediately go rigid beneath his hand.

" What do you want Dean?" Asked Sam flatly without turning around to look at Dean.

" I think it's pretty obvious Sam." Said Dean before he used force to physically turn Sam around so that they were facing one another.

Blank moss green eyes stared back at Dean, cold and devoid of the warmth that should have been there.

" Sammy please, just talk to me, tell me what I can do to make it up to you, please." Said Dean as he reached out and gripped Sam remaining shoulder.

Sam was completely silent for what seemed like an eternity before he finally looked Dean square in the eye and spoke.

" Can you give me back the part of me that died when I pulled the trigger and blew that black dog's head off? Can you give me back my soul Dean?" He asked softly.

Dean gasped and his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates as Sam's words washed over him.

" S-Sammy I-" Dean began to say when Sam cut him of.

" My name is Sam God-damn it. Sammy is dead Dean, he died that night with the black dog. And besides, you and Dad never wanted 'Sammy'. Dad always wanted another soldier just like the perfect one he already had, and you just wanted someone who wouldn't annoy the crap outta you anymore. You both got your wishes now, cause I'm never gonna be the person I was ever again." He said with such a cold and detached manner that Dean actually felt terror starting to grip his heart.

" That's not true Sammy, that can't be true." Said Dean as he vehemently shook his head and tightened his grip on Sam's shoulders.

" But it is the truth Dean." Said Sam with sadness finally showing through the icy depths of his green eyes.

" No... No I won't accept this... I can't accept this. You're still Sammy. You hear me? You're still Sammy." Insisted Dean with his voice cracking and his eyes rapidly welling with tears.

With a tiny sob, Dean yanked Sam to him into a crushing embrace.

Sam felt his own broken heart lurch painfully inside his chest as his big brother hugged him so tightly that it hurt to breath. The boy wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around his older brother and give in to the grief and despair that was consuming him like a cancer, but he didn't, he let his arms hang limply at his sides and stared blanking at the wall that was ahead of him as he spoke.

" I remember... You held me like this after we got home that night. You thought I was already asleep and you climbed into bed with me, and you held me like this. I was wide awake Dean, and I wanted to shove you off of me, I didn't want you anywhere near me." He said softly.

Sam felt Dean freeze against him and breath hitched, but instead of letting go, Dean only tightened his hold around Sam further.

" But you didn't shove me away Sammy, you didn't." Whispered Dean against Sam's neck.

" I wanted to, very badly. It didn't feel good when you held me that night, it didn't feel good when Dad hugged me after the hunt, and it doesn't feel good right now." Said Sam stiffly.

Feeling like someone was tearing everything inside him apart, Dean steeled his resolve and spoke what were some of the hardest words he felt he had ever had to say.

" What... What does it feel like for you Sammy?" He asked with great difficulty.

" It feels like there are hot needles poking at my skin, like I have ants crawling under my skin, and it make something inside me feel like it's breaking all over again." Said Sam softly.

Dean screwed his eyes tightly shut and staved off the urge to start sobbing uncontrollably because he understood what Sam was saying.

That for him, being touched either his dad or his brother made his flesh crawl. Sam was so repulsed by his father and brother, that he could barely tolerate their touch.

" Oh God. Sammy, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, God I'm so sorry." Whispered Dean over and over again to Sam.

Sam felt his own eyes starting to burn with despair, but he stubbornly kept the tears back and just stood there in Dean's arms.

There was an innumerable amount of time passed in almost total silence after that, save for a few hitched breaths from Dean. Then, Dean swallowed thickly and spoke.

" Sammy, even though it kills me to hear you say that, I want you to know that it's okay for you to feel this way. I know I deserve this, to feel what I'm feeling right now. God, it hurts so bad, but I deserve every bit of it for what I did to you. But Sammy, I want you to know that I'm gonna fix this, I am gonna fix this, and I don't care how long it takes because you did _not _loose your soul out there, you didn't _die_. The person I know you to be is in there somewhere, and I'm gonna find him. I swear it Sammy, I'm not gonna let this be the end. I love too damn much, Dad loves you too damn much for this to be how it's gonna be." Breathed Dean.

Sam almost broke down right then and there, but he kept himself from falling apart through the use of sheer will alone as he spoke.

" I love you guys too, but I don't know if that will be enough to ever fix what's wrong Dean. Now please... Please let go of me." He said softly, his body wanting Dean to release him, while his battered heart wanted him to stay in those iron-like arms for just a few moments longer.

Dean gave Sam one more tight squeeze before with agonizing slowness, he forced himself to let go of his younger brother. But before he let go completely, Dean leaned in and pressed his forehead to Sam's and spoke.

" I'm gonna fix this Sammy, somehow someway, I'll fix this I promise."

" Dean, I know you almost always keep your promises, but I don't know if this is one promise even you can keep. My faith in you and Dad took a really hard hit, I don't even know if there is anything left of it even." Said Sam just as softly.

" Well then, I'm banking on some of it still being there then, that me and Dad's stupid ways didn't kill it all." Said Dean with new found resolve clear in his voice as he drew away and gazed at Sam with tearful but determined eyes.

After that, Dean turned and walked out of the room, telling Sam that he was going downstairs to make them something to eat. In actuality, Dean made a detour to the bathroom first where he allowed himself to silently fall apart from the powerful and painful words Sam had spoken to him.

Back inside the room, Sam sank down on the foot of his bed and looked down at his hands. They were pale and lightly trembling. As he sat there alone in the silence, Sam couldn't help but feel the barest spark of hope flare up inside his cracked and dented heart. It was the faint hope that maybe, just maybe Dean would make good on his promise.

Maybe, just maybe, Dean would be able to fix that which seemed to be broken beyond repair.

But it was a faint hope, one that could easily be extinguished with even the slightest miss-step.


End file.
